


two weeks notice

by alicialeila



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Idols, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Drinking to Cope, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Implied Sarumi, M/M, Minor/Background KuroShiro, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Secret Relationship, Social Media, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-07-29 14:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicialeila/pseuds/alicialeila
Summary: "In today's top story, beloved idol Totsuka Tatara was released from the hospital earlier today, twelve days after he was shot during an autograph session with fans,"the reporter said."HOMRA Management, led by Kusanagi Izumo, has released a statement saying that Totsuka-kun is doing well, and that he'll be taking the next few weeks to rest."When Totsuka is injured on his watch, Mikoto quits as his bodyguard, leaving behind more than just a job.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vassbutt1991](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vassbutt1991/gifts).

> A few disclaimers! 
> 
> 1) I'll probably add to/update the tags as I add chapters, so please check the tags and warnings before reading, if you are sensitive to things.
> 
> 2) I have absolutely zero knowledge of the idol industry or celebrity culture in Japan, so this is obviously coming from a Western background. (Tbh, I don't know that much about how the music industry works in North America, either). This is purely from my imagination, so please forgive any artistic liberties I've taken. 
> 
> 3) All Twitter handles and such are fictional & completely made up by me. Any resemblance to actual usernames is purely coincidental and all that jazz. 
> 
> Please enjoy! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As fun as it was to write, the whole fic is not in this format. This is just a fun little prologue before things get real ;)

**Prologue**

  


**Entertainment Weekly****✓** @EW_JPN 

Idol Totsuka Tatara was all smiles as he attended a meet-and-greet with fans this afternoon.  Read the full story here! 

  


**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash 

LRT has anyone noticed how hot totsuka tataras bodyguard is or is it just me

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl   
Replying to @totsukatrash

omfg thank you!!! and with those sunglasses holy shit 😭

**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash   
Replying to @justafangirl

right???? imagine looking at that all day

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

imagine them looking at each other all day

**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash   
Replying to @justafangirl

they look so good together wtf

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

goals tbh

**BlueBabe **@everythingisblue  
Replying to @totsukatrash and @justafangirl

y’all need jesus

  


_ @everthingisblue has been blocked by @totsukatrash _

_ @everthingisblue has been blocked by @justafangirl _

  
  
  


♬

  
  
  
  


**Entertainment Weekly****✓** @EW_JPN

HOMRA bodyguard reportedly under fire for altercation with paparazzi. Read the full story here! 

  


**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash 

@justafangirl get u a man who defends u against gross invasive paps

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

what a man

**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash   
Replying to @justafangirl

and look at those pics he looks so mad

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

totsuka looks so tiny standing behind him like that omg

  
  
  


♬

  
  
  


**Entertainment Weekly****✓** @EW_JPN

OPINION: Why does HOMRA have such a controversial reputation? “Security personnel should not behave like thugs. It’s an insult to our profession,” says head of Scepter 4. Read the full story here! 

  


**Rin ~ **@justafangirl   
Replying to @EW_JPN

@totsukatrash omg did you read this

**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash   
Replying to @justafangirl

omfg whats his beef with homra and totsukas bodyguard lmao

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

idk!! maybe there’s ~bad blood~ between everyone after fushimi saruhiko went solo and switched management

**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash   
Replying to @justafangirl

omg yeah. what a dick tho

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

do you think @totsukatatara read it

  


♬

  


**Totsuka Tatara****✓** @totsukatatara

How could anyone call this face scary 😍

[image attached]

  
  


**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash 

@justafangirl omg is that his bodyguard

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

I think so????? Its really blurry and close up lmao idk

**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash   
Replying to @justafangirl

he looks so annoyed omg i can’t 

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

why are they so cute

**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash   
Replying to @justafangirl

that emoji tho 👀

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

👀

  


♬

  
  


**Entertainment Weekly****✓** @EW_JPN

Head of HOMRA fires back at critics: “We’re a family at HOMRA, and we protect each other.” Read the full story here! 

  


**Totsuka Tatara****✓** @totsukatatara  
Replying to @EW_JPN

Kusanagi-san is so well-spoken! 😘

  


**Yata Misaki** **✓ **@Yata_Official  
Replying to @EW_JPN

HOMRA is the best!!! **🔥**

  


**Rin ~ **@justafangirl

@totsukatrash *wipes tears*

**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash   
Replying to @justafangirl

they’ve known each other for so long???

**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

I know I weep

  
  
  
  
  


♬

  


**Entertainment Weekly****✓** @EW_JPN

BREAKING NEWS: Shots reportedly fired at HOMRA fan meet-and-greet event. Read the full story here!

  
  


**Entertainment News** **✓ **@ETNews_Tokyo

Shocking footage from a witness of a shooting at a HOMRA event this evening. 

[video attached]

  


**Entertainment Weekly****✓** @EW_JPN

UPDATE: Injury confirmed in HOMRA shooting. Read the full story here!

  
  


**#1 totsuka stan **@totsukatrash 

@justafangirl holy shit

  


**Rin ~ **@justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

fuck.

********


	2. Part 1

**Part I**

Mikoto kept a brisk pace as he walked along the quiet city street, hands stuffed firmly into the pockets of his warmest jacket. It was a cold and damp December night; dark clouds hung heavily in the night sky, threatening snow. 

He was grateful for the burst of warm air when he pushed through the door of the small convenience store he frequented to buy cigarettes. At this late hour, the place was empty, and Mikoto was grateful for that, too. He’d hidden himself away all week, carefully avoiding crowds and people and newspapers and television screens. He’d only escaped his messy apartment for a quick beer and cigarette run, since he’d gone through his stock much faster than he should have. 

He made his way to the beer fridge at the back of the store, picking out the same cheap brand he’d been drinking since he’d turned twenty, years ago, and then to the counter. The bored-looking cashier hadn’t even spared him a glance since he’d entered the store, eyes fixed on the outdated television in the corner. It was set to a news channel, the sports coverage switching to entertainment news just as Mikoto took notice. 

Seeing the face of the day’s top story, Mikoto’s blood ran cold, and the bottles of beer in his grasp clattered noisily to the floor. “Fuck,” he swore, bending down to collect them. 

Seeing that nothing had broken, the cashier merely shrugged. He pressed a button on a remote, and the low chatter from the television slowly took the shape of words.

“A pack of the Marlboro,” Mikoto said roughly, trying his best not to listen to the reporter.

He failed. 

_ “In today’s top story, beloved idol Totsuka Tatara was released from the hospital earlier today, twelve days after he was shot during an autograph session with fans.” _

Unclenching his fist, Mikoto handed the cashier a few crumpled bills. 

_ “HOMRA Management, led by Kusanagi Izumo, has released a statement saying that Totsuka-kun is doing well, and that he’ll be taking the next few weeks to rest.” _

The cashier handed him his change and Mikoto stuffed the coins into his pocket. Because he was an absolute fucking masochist, before pushing through the door, Mikoto turned back to get one last glimpse of the television. 

Sure enough, Totsuka’s face flashed on the screen. He was waving at the reporters with his trademark sunny smile as he was ushered into a vehicle, just outside the hospital. He looked tired, Mikoto thought, and pale, but that wasn’t exactly surprising, after being shot in the stomach. 

His own stomach twisted.

Mikoto could make out Kusanagi’s figure climbing into the car, before the news cut to different footage of Totsuka, a selfie -- Totsuka smiling sweetly, flashing a peace sign -- that he’d obviously posted online. 

_ “A few hours ago, Totsuka-kun took to Twitter to thank fans for their support,”  _ the reporter said. 

The twist in Mikoto’s stomach was burning now, so he walked back out into the cold night, letting it numb him. It had started raining since he’d been inside, big, fat drops that would probably eventually turn into messy, wet snow. Even so, he stopped to unwrap his purchased cigarettes and took one out of the pack. 

Taking a long drag, he tried to push down the nausea. It was hard not to think it:

_ I should have been there. _

And he would have been, had he not quit his job nearly twelve days ago. Helping Totsuka into the car, settling him into his fancy apartment, it would have all fallen to him. Hell, Totsuka probably would have asked for his opinion on which selfie to post, as if being head of his security detail meant Mikoto was supposed to care about Twitter and shit. He could practically see Totsuka’s wry little smile as he’d ask, “Which one is cuter, King?”

Wiping that image from his mind, Mikoto made his way home, the cold drops of rain a welcome reminder of where, exactly, he was.

Once in his apartment, he shoved the beer into his fridge before stripping out of his drenched clothes and flopping onto his bed in just his boxer briefs, pack of cigarettes in hand. He reached around the floor beside his bed, where he was sure he’d last seen his phone. He had let it die, but he’d have to turn it back on eventually, so he might as well get it over with. 

He plugged it in, and it took a few moments to turn back on, the red battery symbol flashing in rebuke. Sure enough, he had dozens of missed calls and text messages. Most of them were from Kusanagi, spanning the twelve days since he’d quit. 

He had two missed calls from Totsuka, and a few text messages from today. Totsuka had probably called him as soon as he’d gotten home.

Mikoto’s thumb hovered over the voicemail icon for a few moments before he pressed it, trembling slightly, which he blamed on the cold. He lit a cigarette as he listened to the few angry messages that Kusanagi had left. 

_ “Answer your damn phone, Mikoto.” _

_ “When are you going to show your damn face at the hospital?” _

_ “Did you seriously quit without telling anyone? Call me back, god damn it.” _

He deleted them and then played the next one, and his breath caught in his throat when he heard Totsuka’s voice.

_ “Kusanagi-san said you quit,”  _ Totsuka said evenly.  _ “I want to hear it from you, though. Will you call me back?” _

He didn’t sound angry. No, he was probably pouting, Mikoto thought. The corner of his lips twitched, even as the guilt sat heavy in his stomach.

He owed Totsuka more than just an explanation. 

They’d been working together since Kusanagi first took over his uncle’s talent management company; Kusanagi and Mikoto had gone to high school together, and Kusanagi had recruited Mikoto to be security because he supposedly had “a scary enough face.” Totsuka had been the first act that Kusanagi himself had signed, a fresh-faced fifteen-year-old straight out of middle school with a bright smile and beautiful voice. 

When Kusanagi had introduced them, Totsuka had stared at Mikoto, wide-eyed. “He’s like… my bodyguard?” Totsuka had asked slowly, in awe. Kusanagi had been about to explain the extent of Mikoto’s role, but Totsuka had just grinned up at Mikoto. “Your codename should be King!”

“Eh?” Mikoto had glanced at Kusanagi, eyebrows furrowed, silently asking,  _ Who the hell is this kid? _

“You don’t need codenames,” Kusanagi had said, chuckling. “We’re not spies.”

Totsuka was still staring at Mikoto. “Still!” he’d said. “Can I call you King?”

“Why?” Mikoto had asked, perplexed.

Tilting his head like a puppy, Totsuka had said, “It’s… your aura! I can’t explain it.”

That had been nearly eight years ago. Together, the three of them rebranded HOMRA and turned it into what it was today -- successful, beyond anything they’d imagined. Totsuka was still kind of weird, still called him King, and still stared at him far too often. Of course, the quality of Totsuka’s gaze had changed, just as Mikoto’s had changed in return. They’d crossed lines that now, sitting here, Mikoto couldn’t help but think they shouldn’t have crossed. It made everything infinitely more complicated.

What could he say to Totsuka now? That he’d quit because the job was too dangerous? Because he had been scared for his life? Those were lies, obviously. It hadn’t been the most dangerous situation Mikoto had ever been in, not by far, thanks to his delinquent teenage years. It hadn’t even been the first time Mikoto had ever seen someone get shot. 

It had been a fairly ordinary day. Totsuka was still promoting his newest album, so he had done a short acoustic performance with Yata Misaki, another HOMRA talent, and then a signing afterwards at a popular music store in the city. 

It had been near the end of the event, which was why everyone’s guard was lower than it should have been. Mikoto had been off to the side of the room, since he’d been told more than once that he intimidated the fans. (“Your face is too scary!” Totsuka had teased him, even though Mikoto knew for a fact that Totsuka liked his face just fine.) Everything happened so quickly, but Mikoto would never forget the chilling laughter he’d heard before the gunshot. As Mikoto had moved towards the person standing in front of Totsuka, another shot rang out in the air. 

Then Totsuka was on the ground.

The shooter had turned to make his escape, and Mikoto, powered purely by anger and adrenaline, had grabbed his shoulder, twisted his arm, and slammed him to the ground. He’d heard a pop, but he’d barely taken notice. He signaled to Kamamoto, another HOMRA security guard with an imposing frame, to hold down the shooter, and then he ran back over to Totsuka, who was on the floor, breathing heavily, somehow still lucid. 

Kusanagi was crouched beside him, covered in blood, phone pressed to his ear. Yata was at Totsuka’s side, holding Kusanagi’s jacket to the wound. “It’s okay, Totsuka-san,” Yata had repeated over and over, but the panic in his voice betrayed his attempts to comfort. 

Mikoto had crouched down himself and pushed Yata away, as gently as he could, to take over for him. Totsuka had met his gaze with hazy eyes and moved to sit up. “Don’t,” Mikoto had rasped, and Totsuka gave up, reaching up a hand instead.

“King, I…” Totsuka had murmured, fingers grazing Mikoto’s cheek, and then he started coughing. Blood trickled from his mouth, and Yata started sobbing beside them in earnest. 

“Shut up,” Mikoto had said to Totsuka, probably more roughly than appropriate, but he rested a gentle hand on Totsuka’s face to make up for it. Totsuka stared back up at Mikoto for a few long moments, until his eyes fluttered closed and he lost consciousness. “Fuck,” Mikoto swore, pressing more firmly on the material of Kusanagi’s jacket. 

The minutes they waited for the ambulance to arrive were the longest of Mikoto’s life. He jumped into the ambulance behind Totsuka and the medics without even casting a glance behind him. During the short ride, he fixed his eyes on the waves of Totsuka’s pulse on the monitor and tuned out the chaos. 

Before he knew it, he was alone in the waiting room, having watched the doctors wheel Totsuka away, behind some doors, where he couldn’t follow. 

“You’ll have to wait here, sir,” a nurse had told him, shrinking back slightly when Mikoto had scowled at her. “The doctor will come find you when he has news,” she reassured him, somewhat warily. 

He paced around the waiting room until someone laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Kusanagi said.

Mikoto had stared at him. He, too, was wearing Totsuka’s blood, and something about that made Mikoto want to punch a wall. Or at least smoke a cigarette. Sensing his anger, Kusanagi grabbed Mikoto’s arm, and they both slumped into a chair.

“Are you okay?” Kusanagi asked.

Mikoto scoffed. “I’m fine.”

Kusanagi nodded. “Have you spoken with a doctor?” Mikoto shook his head, and Kusanagi sighed.

“Yata’s not here?” Mikoto asked, glancing around the room.

“He wanted to come, but I called Fushimi to take him home. I told him we’d call him when we hear something.”

Mikoto eyed Kusanagi. He seemed so calm, so rational, but Mikoto knew him well enough to know that he was probably a mess inside. Kusanagi had always just been good at getting things done, even in the most dire of situations.

“Here.” Kusanagi handed Mikoto a tissue.    
  
“What?”

“You have blood on your face,” Kusanagi said quietly. 

Swallowing thickly, Mikoto wiped as his cheek, remembering where Totsuka’s fingers had touched.

It felt like a lifetime had passed when a doctor finally emerged from the forbidden doors. Mikoto and Kusanagi both jumped up immediately. “Are you here for Totsuka-kun?” she asked.

“Yes, how is he?” Kusanagi replied.

“He’s stable now,” she said. “It was touch-and-go for a moment there, but he’ll recover just fine.”

Mikoto closed his eyes, and Kusanagi exhaled heavily beside him. “Can we see him?” Kusanagi asked.

The doctor frowned. “He won’t be awake for some time, but you can have a minute, if you’d like.” The doctor led them down a sterile, twisted hallway, to Totsuka’s door. “Just a minute,” she said sternly. “You can come back tomorrow, during visiting hours.”

The two of them stepped into the room. The quiet was unsettling, with the beeping of Totsuka’s pulse on the monitor the only real sound. Kusanagi reached out towards the bed like he wanted to touch, but then he paused when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. Even the soft buzzing seemed loud in the small room.

Kusanagi sighed. “One second,” he said, before stepping out.

Alone in the room, Mikoto felt it safe enough to take a few steps towards Totsuka. He looked small and frail in his hospital gown, and deathly pale. Mikoto touched his fingertips to Totsuka’s brow, remembering how feverish he’d been as they’d waited for the ambulance. His temperature seemed fine now, which made sense, what with the surgery and medication, and a nurse who had probably wiped his skin clean.    
  
He let his hand fall back to his side. Part of him wanted to take Totsuka’s hand, like he was in some kind of medical drama, but he was frozen in place.

It was hard not to think that this was his fault.

He hadn’t been the one with the gun, but he was the one who was supposed to protect Totsuka, and he hadn’t even been able to do that. He had told Kusanagi once that he and Totsuka were stupid for thinking that he was fit to protect anyone, and that seemed glaringly obvious now. 

He thought of how Totsuka had reached for him before he passed out, the desperation of his eyes as he’d called out to him.

Suddenly, being in the small room with Totsuka was unbearable. Mikoto couldn’t breathe.

Sparing Totsuka’s calm, sleeping face one last look, Mikoto turned back and left the room. Kusanagi grabbed him in the hallway, finished with his phone call. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Mikoto shook Kusanagi’s hand off his shoulder. “I gotta go,” he said, unable to meet Kusanagi’s eyes. He kept walking, ignoring Kusanagi calling after him.

He went home. 

He got in the shower, where he watched Totsuka’s blood swirl down the drain. 

He got dressed. 

He got into his HOMRA-owned car. 

He drove to the office. 

He said, “I quit.”

He walked home.

And now, twelve days of drinking and smoking later, he was lying face-down on his bed, staring pathetically at his phone. 

He played another one of Totsuka’s messages.

_ “King,”  _ Totsuka drawled, clearly whining this time, “ _ it’s very rude to ignore someone who just survived a near-death experience.” _

Mikoto frowned at the playfulness of Totsuka’s tone. Only he would joke about nearly being killed. Mikoto kind of wanted to smack him.

He deleted the rest of the voicemails and unread messages.

Letting his phone drop to the floor with a satisfying thump, he rolled onto his back. He lit a cigarette and cracked open his beer. The nightmares were usually worse when he drank, but he did fall asleep faster, so it kind of evened out.

He spent the next three days in much of the same position, drinking and smoking, and trying to avoid the barrage of texts and calls from Kusanagi and Totsuka. He only gave in once, responding to Kusanagi when he threatened to bust down Mikoto’s door.  _ I’m fine, _ he texted back.  _ Leave me alone. _

He could only imagine how many times Totsuka would have been at his doorstep had he not been on bed rest after a life-threatening injury.

His luck ran out on the third day, when there was a knock at his door. 

Mikoto frowned; it was far too late at night for it to be anything good. He was set on ignoring it, until the knocking got louder. 

“King!” Mikoto heard from behind the door, in between the pounding. “Please open the door.”

Mikoto sighed. He knew Totsuka wasn’t the type of person to leave well enough alone. He should have been expecting this, even with a gunshot wound to slow Totsuka down.

Totsuka kept knocking. “I’m not here to bother you,” he said. “I just want to give you something, and then I’ll go.”

Giving in was probably the only way to get him to leave, Mikoto reasoned. He could call Kusanagi to snitch on Totsuka, and he could only imagine Kusanagi’s overreaction to Totsuka being out of bed, but that would involve bringing Kusanagi into this mess.

Hesitantly, he got up to answer it. He thought he was ready, but when he swung the door open with practiced nonchalance, he froze in his spot.

It was Totsuka, who Mikoto hadn’t seen for over two weeks, except on the screen of a television in a rundown convenience store.

It was Totsuka, who looked nothing like he had the last time Mikoto had seen him, now wrapped in his puffy winter coat and scarf, cheeks pink from the cold, clutching a neatly wrapped parcel. Soft, fluffy snow had gathered on his shoulders and the top of his hat. He looked like something out of a winter wonderland advertisement.

“What?” Mikoto rasped. He hoped his frown would cover how thrown he was at seeing Totsuka again.

Undeterred, Totsuka smiled up at Mikoto without a hint of shame or nervousness, like Mikoto hadn’t been ignoring his every call and text for days.

“Sorry for coming here so late,” Totsuka chirped. “I figured you’d still be up.”

Out of pure habit, Mikoto scanned the area outside. Had he come here alone? After he’d been shot by a crazed fan?   
  
Totsuka chuckled knowingly. “Kamamoto’s waiting for me in the car,” he said. “I just wanted to give you this in person.” He held up the parcel for Mikoto to take.

Mikoto moved aside, letting Totsuka into his apartment and out of the cold. Totsuka presented him with the package, and Mikoto accepted it wordlessly. 

Totsuka’s smile was wide and sweet as ever. “It was supposed to be a Christmas present,” he said. “But I guess it’s more of a goodbye gift now? Or a thank you, for everything. I was a lot of trouble, in the end.” Not even his practiced cheer, the kind he turned on rude reporters and invasive fans, could hide the way his voice broke. 

It sounded like an apology. 

Mikoto’s heart twinged painfully, but before he could form a word in response, Totsuka wrapped his arms around Mikoto’s waist. 

Mikoto was hyperaware of every point of contact: the cold press of Totsuka’s nose against the skin of his chest, left exposed by the low neckline of his V-neck, the drag of Totsuka’s lips against his shirt. It had only been a few weeks since he’d last seen Totsuka, but somehow he’d forgotten how nice Totsuka smelled, between his sweet body soap and expensive shampoo.

Slowly, he let his hands rest on Totsuka’s back, loosely returning the hug despite the wetness of Totsuka’s coat from the snow. Totsuka exhaled, breath warm through the thin material of Mikoto’s T-shirt, and Mikoto’s heart raced. It would be too easy, he thought, to lean down, to tilt Totsuka’s chin up and kiss him. Memories surfaced, of Totsuka underneath him, sweaty and flushed, and Mikoto unconsciously tightened his hold. Totsuka gasped harshly, and then the image in Mikoto’s mind shifted to a blood-soaked Totsuka, face twisted in pain.

“Sorry,” he said roughly, stepping out of Totsuka’s arms.

“It’s okay,” Totsuka said, his smile near-perfect. “It’s just a bit sensitive still.” He patted his belly, where, under his coat, there was no doubt bandages and stitches and an ugly scar marring his perfect skin.

Mikoto breathed through the guilt.

“You should get going,” he said. “Kamamoto’s waiting.”

“Right.” Totsuka’s smile wavered for a moment as he stared at Mikoto, but then his expression settled. “Take care of yourself,” he said, moving towards the door.

Part of Mikoto couldn’t help but be surprised that Totsuka was leaving without stubbornly trying to convince him to return to HOMRA. He’d been prepared for a fight.

He managed to nod, and then Totsuka was gone, the door shut tightly behind him. Mikoto rested his forehead against the door, fighting the urge to open it and watch Totsuka make it safely over to Kamamoto. 

It wasn’t his job anymore.

  
  
  


♪♫♪♫♪

  
  


Tatara slipped into the backseat behind Kamamoto, heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon.

“Everything okay, Totsuka-san?” Kamamoto asked.

“Everything’s fine,” Tatara said brightly, wiping at the errant tears trickling down his cheeks, which he blamed on the cold winter wind. He tried not to wince as he clipped on his seatbelt; his wound was throbbing, probably because Tatara hadn’t been taking it easy, like the doctor had very sternly instructed. He was also being weaned off of his pain medication, which was unpleasant.

Tatara gazed out the window, watching the passing scenery absently, until Kamamoto pulled up in front of Tatara’s apartment building and lightly cleared his throat. 

“Thanks again, Kamamoto,” Tatara said.

“I can come up with you,” Kamamoto offered, because he was a good boy.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Tatara assured him. “Good night.”

He got out of the car with a wave and made his way into his apartment building, a place much fancier than anything he had ever imagined living in as a child. He was content to live in his tiny old one-bedroom apartment, mismatched furniture and all, until Kusanagi had insisted he needed to live somewhere more private and with better security. It was an adjustment, especially considering what Tatara had grown up in, but he did enjoy the space; he was finally able to get himself a grand piano.

Tatara plopped himself down on his couch. He knew he should be getting ready for bed, but he was too tired to make his way that far into his apartment.

His stitches ached.

So did his heart.

The ringing of his phone snapped him out of his daze, the custom ringtone alerting him that it was Kusanagi. Kusanagi had been calling him freakishly often since everything had happened, like a stern, concerned father.

“Hi, Kusanagi-san,” Tatara said, suppressing a yawn.

_ “You sound tired. Why aren’t you asleep?” _

“All I’ve been doing is sleeping,” Tatara complained, which wasn’t exactly true, but Kusanagi didn’t need to know that.

_ “Totsuka,”  _ Kusanagi warned.  _ “Kamamoto said you went on an  _ errand.” He said “errand” with such disdain that Tatara knew he was being scolded.

Tatara smiled. Kamamoto really was the sweetest; he couldn’t outright lie to Kusanagi, but he hadn’t given everything away, either. “I did,” he said. “I had to give something to… to Mikoto.”

Kusanagi went silent for a moment, and then he sighed.  _ “Totsuka…” _

“I really just went to give him something, Kusanagi-san. That was all,” he said quietly.

_ “Go get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” _

Tatara smiled. “Good night.”

_ “Good night.” _

The line disconnected, and Tatara exhaled heavily. Slowly, he got himself up and ready for bed, even if he knew sleep wouldn’t come.

Kusanagi had waited until the day Tatara got home from the hospital to tell him that Mikoto had quit. When Tatara had woken up in the hospital, groggy and confused, he’d immediately noticed that Mikoto wasn’t there and panicked, assuming the worst. Kusanagi had assured him that Mikoto was fine, but he hadn’t said anything else to explain his absence. Tatara had wanted to ask, but Kusanagi had seemed so overwhelmed that Tatara hadn’t wanted to bug him. Truthfully, he’d been slightly hurt that Mikoto hadn’t been there, not for for the twelve days he’d stayed in the hospital, but it wasn’t like he could tell Kusanagi that, since he didn’t know the truth about what was between them. Besides, for all Tatara knew, Mikoto could have started a fight with someone and been banned from the premises. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

When Kusanagi finally did tell him that Mikoto had left HOMRA, Tatara had been surprised, and then he’d been angry. He had just quit, with no phone call, no nothing? And so Tatara had sent Mikoto texts and left voicemails. Had he been able to actually move freely, without Kusanagi spying on him through Kamamoto, damn right he would have been kicking down Mikoto’s door.

“Let’s just give him time,” Kusanagi had said. “It’s hard for me, too, but you know that Mikoto likes to do things on his own terms.”

Tatara did know this, but it was hard to agree when Kusanagi didn’t understand exactly what he was asking of Tatara. 

It had been nearly a year since they’d become more intimate. It had started at last year’s New Year’s party. Tatara had found Mikoto on the roof, smoking. After a few too many drinks and a few too many years of pining, Tatara had been bold enough to kiss him. 

Tatara  _ loved _ him.

Tatara loved him, and Mikoto still wouldn’t pick up his phone.

“Kusanagi-san,” Tatara had started, chewing his lip, “did King visit me in the hospital?” 

Kusanagi had hesitated. “Well, he was there that night, in the ambulance.”

“But after that?”

Kusanagi had just sighed, which Tatara knew meant no, he hadn’t.

It was hard not to take that as some kind of sign.

If Mikoto needed time away from HOMRA and his job, then he deserved that. And wasn’t it a logical extension that he might need some time away from Tatara, too? Taking care of Tatara was his job, after all, so maybe he needed a break from that, too.

Lying in bed, Tatara stared up at his ceiling. He had wanted Mikoto so bad that he hadn’t thought things through, really. Mikoto spent his days looking after Tatara, so why in the world would he want to spend his nights doing it, too? It was no wonder that it had become too much.

Mikoto deserved his space, and then hopefully he would change his mind and come back to HOMRA. Tatara was patient, and he wasn’t about to give up on Mikoto, not when he’d waited years for him.

Guiltily, Tatara thought that he probably shouldn’t have given Mikoto the Christmas present. What he’d done tonight was the opposite of giving Mikoto space, but part of Tatara was hoping that he’d open it, and then be reminded that Tatara was here, waiting for him. 

Grabbing his phone from his bedside table, Tatara typed out a message to Kusanagi, but couldn’t bring himself to hit send.

_ He’ll come back, right? _

Tatara couldn’t bear to be the one to have cost Mikoto his home.

  
  
  


♪♫♪♫♪

  
  


After Totsuka’s impromptu visit, Mikoto was gifted with a whole day of absolute silence before he received a phone call.

Sprawled out on his bed, ash tray balanced on his chest, he eyed the phone warily as Ksuanagi’s name flashed on the screen. Something possessed him to answer it; he could always just hang up, he reasoned, if Kusanagi started nagging him.

“What?” Mikoto grumbled into the phone.

_ “You answered,”  _ Kusanagi said, surprised.

“I can hang up, if you’d rather that,” Mikoto said. “What do you want?”

Kusanagi just sighed loudly, and then, after a beat of silence, he asked,  _ “Wanna go get drunk?” _   
  
  


They met at a dingy little bar, one they’d frequented as newly legal twenty-year-olds, which seemed like a lifetime ago. These days, Kusanagi prefered much classier establishments, but at a place like this, they were less likely to run into anyone they knew.

Standing outside, Mikoto threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped on it, ignoring the glare from a passerby. Suddenly, it occurred to him that Kusanagi hadn’t specified whether it would just be the two of them. He, Kusanagi, and Totsuka had made a habit of going out like this together, to tiny holes in the wall and dive bars where they wouldn’t be bothered. Rationally, Totsuka probably wasn’t supposed to be out of bed, never mind to get drunk, but Mikoto squared himself as he entered the bar, just in case.

He found Kusanagi already seated at the bar, alone, hand curled around a half-empty pint glass. “Rough day?” Mikoto asked, sitting down beside him.

Kusanagi turned to give him a dirty look. “Shut up.” He looked so unlike himself, with the plain jeans and T-shirt, the messy hair.

“You look like shit,” Mikoto said.

“Thanks, Mikoto,” Kusanagi said dryly. He eyed Mikoto’s own appearance and frowned. “You don’t look any better than I do.”

That was probably true. Mikoto hadn’t exactly been sleeping soundly; when he did manage to get to sleep, he was plagued by this recurring dream, where he was shot in Totsuka’s place. He always woke up drenched with sweat, heart pounding, clutching at his stomach, as if expecting to find a wound there. He’d had the dream late last night and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep.

When the bartender came by to take Mikoto’s order, Kusanagi asked for another drink, and then a few rounds of shots. Mikoto raised an eyebrow when the bartender returned with the tray. “You weren’t kidding,” he said. He reached for a glass, but Kusanagi grabbed his wrist.

“Just wait.” Kusanagi sighed. “I have to ask you something. And then I promise that we’ll get smashed, okay?”

Mikoto frowned. He wasn’t in the mood for a hidden agenda. “Fine. What is it?”

“I’m sure you can imagine that it’s been hectic at HOMRA,” Kusanagi said, drawing distractedly in the condensation on his glass. “Everyone’s been talking about whether we need to increase security and shit, hire new people. The thing is, with background checks and everything, it takes forever to clear people for the security team.”

“Okay,” Mikoto said, prompting him to continue.

“And we just signed this kid, maybe you’ve heard Totsuka mention her? She’s just made her debut. Anyways, we’re having a hard time finding someone she’s comfortable with. She’s kind of shy and… odd.”

Mikoto narrowed his eyes. “Okay,” he said again, suspicion creeping in.

“I know you quit,” Kusanagi said. “And I’m not asking you to come back, or trying to convince you to change your mind. I’m just asking if you’d work security for this kid, until we’re able to find the right person permanently. You’re already cleared, and I trust you with her.”

Mikoto sighed. “Kusanagi…” He didn’t want to be back at HOMRA, and he definitely didn’t want to babysit some kid. The fact that Kusanagi would even ask him meant that he was desperate as fuck.

“Please? Consider it like your two weeks’ notice, since you didn’t actually give  _ any _ notice before you left.” Kusanagi took a sip of his drink. “Even with Totsuka being off for a few weeks, between the, uh,  _ incident, _ Anna’s debut, and the New Years’ party coming up, I really need you.”

Mikoto stared down at his own drink. “Totsuka won’t be around?” he asked, and then regretted it immediately.

Kusanagi lifted an eyebrow. “No, he’s on strict orders to stay home and rest,” he said. “Why? Did you have a fight or something?”

“No,” he replied, which wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t a fight, not really.

It was a breakup, even if Mikoto would never admit that out loud.

“Are you pissed that he came to see you?” Kusanagi asked. “I told him to leave you alone, but you know how stubborn he is, especially when it comes to you.” He chuckled, but it was strained.

Guilt curling in his belly, Mikoto just shook his head, taking a sip of his beer. After a long moment of silence, Mikoto said sharply, “Two weeks. That’s it.” He owed Kusanagi at least that much.

Kusanagi rested a hand on Mikoto’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “Really.”

“Whatever. Can we get drunk now?”

Kusanagi laughed. “Let’s do it.” 

They raised their shot glasses at each other and downed them quickly. Mikoto appreciated the subtle burn of the whiskey, as cheap as it was. 

Kusanagi slammed his glass on the table. “And hey, whatever you and Totsuka are fighting about, I’m sure you’ll work it out eventually.”

“We’re not fighting,” Mikoto said, reaching for his second glass. 

“Right,” Kusanagi said, watching Mikoto swallow down the shot with ease.

After several more rounds that evening, they were suitably wasted. Not long after last call, Mikoto helped a very wobbly Kusanagi into a sleek black car. Kusanagi wasn’t usually a lightweight, and Mikoto wouldn’t hold it against him, not with the kind of week he’d had.

“Night, Mikoto,” Kusanagi slurred. Mikoto waved as the driver shut the car door. 

He used the walk home to get some air before slumping into bed, hoping that he might be rewarded with a dreamless sleep. It wasn’t that easy, though; how could it be, when all Mikoto could think about as he lay in bed was if Totsuka was lying in his own bed, thinking about Mikoto, too.


	3. Part 2

**Part II**

Slipping into a familiar black suit jacket, Mikoto felt distinctly like he was going to a funeral, and not like he was getting dressed for work. He usually wore black jeans and a T-shirt when he worked with Totsuka, only slapping on a suit when they were going to fancier events. But from his time in security, Mikoto had learned that not all clients were as laidback as Totsuka, and not all bosses were as laidback as Kusanagi. He knew that this client, Kushina Anna, was just a kid, but there was probably also some kind of guardian in the picture, and Mikoto didn’t feel like dealing with dirty looks from some snobby stage mom because of his clothes.

Having already given back the company car, he had no choice but to go to the office by foot. It wasn’t a long walk, although having to push through the morning rush hour crowd slowed him down significantly. By the time he got to the office, his reluctance had transformed into dread.

_ This was a mistake, _ he thought, as he pushed through the heavy glass doors of HOMRA Management. 

The place hadn’t changed; still all sleek and modern, decor reflecting the European style Kusanagi favored, as had his uncle. Mikoto didn’t even glance at the reception desk as he made his way to the elevator to go right up to Kusanagi’s office.

Just as the elevator doors were closing, a pale hand appeared, pushing them back open. The young man that walked into the elevator to stand beside Mikoto wasn’t a member of HOMRA, though he had been, once. 

“Fushimi,” Mikoto said in greeting.

Fushimi had frowned slightly upon entering the elevator, but other than that, he’d made no move to even acknowledge Mikoto’s presence. Mikoto wanted to chuckle; the kid had never liked him much-- though, to be fair, he’d never seemed to like  _ anyone _ much. 

They got off on the same floor -- Fushimi was probably going to see Yata, Mikoto figured -- and Mikoto swore he heard Fushimi whisper, under his breath, “Idiot.”

Mikoto laughed the whole way down the hall. He wasn’t sure why Fushimi would say it, but he probably deserved it.

He tapped on Kusanagi’s door a few times and it only took a couple of seconds for the door to open. “Ah, Mikoto, come in,” Kusanagi said. He still looked exhausted, and Mikoto bet that those tinted lenses were hiding dark circles and bloodshot eyes.

As Mikoto stepped into the room, his eye was immediately drawn to his new client. Despite only being ten years old, Kushina Anna looked incredibly solemn, perched in her chair almost regally. There was something otherworldly about her, with the harsh contrast of her bright red dress and pale silver hair and light grey eyes. Kusanagi probably hit the jackpot with this one, Mikoto thought, since unique looks were usually an asset for an idol.

The kid was staring intently at Mikoto, so intently that Mikoto wanted to turn around and leave. 

“Anna-chan, this is Suoh Mikoto,” Kusanagi said. “Mikoto, this is Kushina Anna and her aunt, Kushina Honami.” 

“Hello, Suoh-kun,” a kind voice said, and Mikoto finally noticed the other person in the room.

Kushina Honami was young, probably only a few years older than Kusanagi. Dressed in a plain black skirt and white blouse, with her dark hair and dark eyes, she looked almost comically normal, sitting beside her niece. It was hard to imagine that they were related. 

“Hey,” Mikoto said, and when she met his gaze, her cheeks pinked.

“Anna-chan, do you think you’d be able to work with Mikoto for a few weeks?” Kusanagi asked.

Anna was still staring at Mikoto, and she tilted her head consideringly. “Okay,” she finally said.

Kusanagi grinned. “Great! You have a photoshoot later this morning, so that can be your first outing together. Have fun!”

“Thank you, Izumo,” Anna said, and Kusanagi laughed fondly.

Mikoto raised a brow. Who was this kid? 

He made his way to the door, but Kusanagi stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Have you talked to Totsuka?” he asked quietly. 

“No,” Mikoto said curtly.

Kusanagi’s lips curled down into an angry frown. “Don’t you think it’s time? I think you’ve made your point.”

Mikoto thought of when Totsuka had shown up on his doorstep, how he’d been overwhelmed by the urge to kiss him. He’d decided that it was easier to go through with this when he stayed away. “I don’t have anything to say,” he said evenly.   
  
Kusanagi looked disappointed, and it made Mikoto’s skin crawl. “Fine,” he said. “Get going, then.”

Kusanagi shooed the three of them out of the office. Mikoto was content to let Anna and Honami walk together, and maintain his distance, but Anna seemed set on walking beside him. Frowning, he looked down at her, about to ask if she was going to hold his damn hand or something, but she merely stared back up at him, serious and unblinking.

Mikoto slid into the driver’s seat of the familiar black car, and Anna and Honami slid into the back. They drove in silence until Anna said, “You were with Tatara, before.”

Mikoto’s grip on the steering wheel tightened at that ambiguous phrasing. “Yeah,” he said, glancing into the rearview mirror. “What about it?” He probably seemed to defensive, considering he was talking to a ten-year-old.

“Totsuka-kun kind of helped discover Anna, I guess you could say,” Honami replied kindly. “He was a big help with her debut.” 

“Right.”

“I’m glad he’s doing better, after everything,” Honami continued.

Mikoto grunted in reply, and avoided looking into the rearview. If she was trying to start a conversation, she’d picked the wrong topic. He focused on driving, on how badly he wanted a cigarette, on anything but the dull ache in his chest.

  
  
  


♪♫♪♬♪♫

  
  


Tatara wasn’t used to being bored.

Obviously, he’d chosen a career that kept him busy, busier than most people could handle, but even before that, Tatara had always been someone with many hobbies. He was interested in music and art and photography, and he’d always liked to go out and see the world and talk to people. In some other life, Tatara imagined he would have been a counselor or therapist.

Being stuck in the house, though? This was new for Tatara. Logically, he knew he should listen to the doctor and take it easy. He also knew that he owed it to Kusanagi to take care of himself and not cause any more trouble than he already had. But it was hard not to feel like he was under house arrest.

So he decided that he’d take his required time off as a mini vacation, and use the free time to write some new music. His most recent album was still pretty new, but it seemed a waste to not use this quiet time to his advantage. It was unheard of to have weeks of uninterrupted writing time; he could probably create a whole album.

Or so he’d thought.

He hadn’t expected to sit down at his piano and stare blankly at the keys, or pick up his guitar and strum the same three chords over and over again before losing patience and putting it back on its stand.

He had writer’s block. Well, songwriter’s block.

He knew he shouldn’t be too hard on himself about it; he was still recovering, after all, and he still wasn’t sleeping much at night. He was bored and restless, not to mention there was only one thing he wanted to write about, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. Wasn’t this what hit songs were about? Trauma and heartbreak and pain?    
  
The thing was, part of him was still hoping that it wasn’t permanent, that he would give Mikoto space and then he’d find his way back to Tatara.

The first few days, Tatara watched a lot of television. He binged some of the popular dramas, wondering if he should try his hand at acting. He texted Kusanagi about it, who promptly replied,  _ How about making it through your recovery first. _

It wasn’t long until he became stir crazy. Normally he would have annoyed Mikoto or Kusanagi into coming over to keep him company, but he couldn't’ ask Mikoto, for obvious reasons, and Kusanagi was far too busy. 

So Tatara took out his phone and dialed Yata’s number. Kusanagi had made an off-hand comment about Yata needing some time to bounce back after the incident, and Tatara’s heart had ached a little at that. Tatara’s memory of the day was blurry at best, but some nights he heard Yata’s sobs in his nightmares. To his fans and the media, Yata was known for his spunk and passion, but Tatara knew the flipside of that was that Yata was sensitive and cared a lot about the people he loved, and so he had probably taken the incident pretty hard.

As the line rang, Tatara rationalized that it wasn’t entirely in self-interest, his desire to invite Yata over, since Yata could probably use the company, too.

_ “Totsuka-san!” _ Yata cried when he answered the phone.

Tatara chuckled. “Hi, Yata. How are you?”   
  
_ “I’m okay, but how are you? How are you feeling? Is everything okay?”  _ he asked quickly.

“I’m find, I’m fine,” Tatara replied. “A little bored, being stuck at home.”

Yata hummed.  _ “Yeah, but that’s what the doctor said you need, right? Lots of rest?” _

“And I have been resting,” Tatara said easily. “I’m already feeling much better! You should come over for dinner. Bring Fushimi, if you want.”

Yata hesitated.  _ “Are you sure that’s okay? Isn’t that too much work?” _

Tatara laughed. “Of course not. You know I love to cook.”

_ “Okay,”  _ Yata said.  _ “I’ll ask Saruhiko and let you know which day.” _

  
  


Tatara spent the next few days in a haze of cooking, letting himself get lost in testing new recipes. By the time Yata and Fushimi were knocking on his door, Tatara had produced more food than three people could possibly eat, especially considering how picky an eater Fushimi was. In all likelihood, he’d just push the food around on his plate, not even polite enough to pretend to take a few bites. In all honesty, that was Tatara’s favorite thing about Fushimi. It made him interesting.

When they did show up, Tatara was pulled into a fierce hug by Yata.

Fushimi tsked. “Oi, Misaki, he’s injured.”

Yata stepped back guiltily. “Sorry, Totsuka-san,” he said.

Tatara laughed. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m not that fragile. Not anymore, at least.” Tatara winked at Fushimi. “Welcome, Fushimi!”

Fushimi gave him a flat look and glanced away, eyes roaming over Tatara’s apartment even though he’d been here more than once. 

Yata extended a bag towards Tatara. “I didn’t know what to bring, so I brought a bottle of wine. Saruhiko said it’s fancy enough.”

Tatara smiled. He wasn’t really supposed to drink, but a glass of wine with dinner couldn’t hurt. “You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you.” He accepted the bottle and ushered the two of them out of the entryway and into his apartment. Since their dinner was ready, he led them into the dining room, and they sat at his large dining room table.

“So, how are things at HOMRA lately?” Tatara asked, pouring wine into each of their glasses. “I’ve been so bored here. Tell me what’s going on.”

Yata hummed thoughtfully. “Well, things have been pretty crazy I guess, but it’s been awesome having M-- Ow!” There was a thud from under the table, and Yata glanced at Fushimi, who was glaring at him reproachfully.

Tatara watched them both, amused. Had Fushimi kicked him underneath the table?   
  
Yata cleared his throat. “Right, um… It’s been awesome having M… Masaomi back.”

Tatara blinked. “You mean… Dewa?” he asked. Dewa was on the security team at HOMRA, but since when did Yata call him by his given name?

“Uh, yeah,” Yata replied, and Fushimi snorted. “He’s been on vacation, but now he’s back!” Yata shoveled a mountain of food into his mouth.

Tatara watched him curiously. “That’s good. I hope things are getting back to normal.”

“What about you, Totsuka-san? When are you coming back?” Yata asked, muffled by the huge bite he’d just taken.

“Probably not until after the New Year,” Tatara complained. “Kusanagi-san has been so bossy about that.”

“But you’re coming to the New Years’ party, right?” Yata asked.

“Of course,” Tatara said. In truth, he’d been avoiding thinking about that at all. “What about you, Fushimi?” he asked quickly. “How are things at Scepter 4?”

Fushimi shrugged, stabbing a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. “Fine. Boring, I guess, compared to you guys, since nobody’s been shot lately.” 

“Hey, don’t say it like that!” Yata cried, outraged.

Tatara just snorted, which seemed to relax Yata. “I’m sure Munakata has his thoughts about that,” he said wryly.

“He said HOMRA lacks professionalism, and that’s why bad things happen,” Fushimi said frankly, and Munakata’s delivery had no doubt been just as direct.

Tatara laughed. He supposed that to a man like Munakata Reisi, who valued discipline and order above all else, the tight-knit, family vibe of HOMRA probably did seem unprofessional. He’d started his career in security and quickly made his way up to head of Scepter 4. Early on in his time at Scepter 4, he had pointed to Mikoto as the antithesis to his work philosophy, and hadn’t been shy about it. 

Although Tatara had been sad for Yata when Fushimi had quit HOMRA and ended their partnership, he had been secretly happy for Fushimi, who had never seemed to fit into HOMRA. Tatara had always thought that it was because Fushimi wasn’t looking to make friends, not when he only had eyes for Yata. Under Munakata’s strict leadership, Fushimi got to work in an environment that Tatara knew was better suited to him. 

He only wished that Fushimi had been honest about why he’d left, instead of letting Yata think that their friendship was over forever.

When Tatara moved to clear their plates, Yata jumped up abruptly. “I’ll do it, Totsuka-san! You just take it easy.” He stared intently at Fushimi, who just rolled his eyes in return.

Tatara chuckled, watching Yata disappear out of the dining room. “What was that about?”

Fushimi sighed. “He wants me to talk to you or something.”

“Eh? To me? About what?”

“He thinks I should tell you about when I quit HOMRA,” Fushimi said, like every word was sour on his tongue.

“And are you going to?” Tatara asked, amused.

Fushimi looked at him. “No.”

“Not even if it would make me feel better?” Tatara teased.

“Why would it? Mikoto-san isn’t me. Me and Yata have nothing to do with the two of you.”

“That’s true.”

Fushimi crossed his arms. “Besides, isn’t this for the best? Your pining was pathetic.”

Tatara stared at Fushimi. He wasn’t surprised that out of everyone, Fushimi would be the one perceptive enough to clue into what was really happening. “And how would you even know that, Fushimi? You’re not with HOMRA anymore.”

Fushimi tsked. “I’m not stupid. I saw it then, and I see it now.”

Tatara smiled. “Ah. Does Yata know that’s why you quit HOMRA?” he countered. “Because you think pining is pathetic?”

Fushimi groaned. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he muttered, and Tatara laughed.

“Well, thank you for not talking to me, Fushimi,” Tatara said.

“Shut up." 

They both turned their attention to the overly loud steps coming from the hallway. 

Yata coughed conspicuously, and Fushimi rolled his eyes. Yata glanced between them hopefully. “Everything okay?”

Tatara smiled and winked. “Of course.” 

He didn’t want to let Yata down.

Tatara watched Yata sit down beside Fushimi, heart aching at how Yata beamed up at him, and how Fushimi’s eyes softened at that. Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t foolish to hope that some things could be fixed.

  
  


After saying goodnight to Yata and Fushimi, Tatara loaded the dishwasher and saved the rest of the cleaning for the next day. He had a quick bath and then slid into bed, even though he knew he wouldn’t be falling asleep any time soon.

He thought about Fushimi, who had, in a way, left HOMRA to protect himself. While he knew that Fushimi and Mikoto were as different as two people could be, and that Mikoto’s reasons for leaving were his own, he couldn’t help but be reminded that whatever Mikoto was going through, he was going through it alone.

Suddenly, he was desperate to hear Mikoto’s voice. He wondered if Mikoto would answer, if he called.

He scrolled through his contacts and hit the dial button before he could really think it through. The line rang and rang and rang, Tatara’s pulse racing with every second of silence. Then came the click, and Tatara took in Mikoto’s gruff  _ “Leave a message” _ greedily. Tatara hung up before the beep, even though Mikoto would know he called whether he left a message or not. 

He chuckled to himself.

Had he really expected any different?   
  
With trembling fingers, he scrolled up a few places in his contact list and dialed that number.

_ “Totsuka?” _ Kusanagi answered quickly.  _ “Is everything okay?” _

“Yeah,” he said. “I just thought I’d call you before you call me this time.”

_ “I wasn’t gonna call you,” _ Kusanagi said.

Tatara laughed. “Liar!” 

_ “I wasn’t.” _ After a pause, Kusanagi said,  _ “I was gonna call Yata, since I knew he was at your place tonight. _

“Well, now you don’t have to,” Tatara said.

_ “Did you guys have fun?” _ Kusanagi asked, fighting a yawn.

“Of course. Yata’s always a riot.”

_ “That he is.”  _ Kusanagi hesitated.  _ “Is… Was there something else?” _

“What do you mean?”   
  
_ “You don’t usually call, so…” _

“Oh. No, I just wanted to tell you I’m fine, since you always call at night.”

_ “Right.” _

Tatara waited. Kusanagi sounded weird. “Should there be something else?” he asked.

_ “No, no,”  _ Kusanagi said too quickly.

“Okay, then,” Tatara said. “I should get to bed, I guess.”

_ “You should.” _

“And so should you,” Tatara teased.

As he lay awake in bed after hanging up, Tatara couldn’t help but feel like there was something Kusanagi wasn’t saying.

  
  
  


The excitement over having dinner guests didn’t last long, and soon Tatara found himself in the same position as before: bored out of his mind. Since he wanted to avoid spending any more time in his house, where he was constantly forced to see the piano and guitar he was struggling with, and he also wanted to go somewhere that wouldn’t give Kusanagi an aneurysm, he decided that the safest thing to do would be to visit the HOMRA office. 

He sweet-talked Kamamoto into helping him clear Kusanagi’s lunch hour one afternoon, so that Tatara could bring Kusanagi lunch. He figured that it was the least he could do, since Kusanagi had been so stressed out because of him. 

Although it felt bizarre, he took a taxi to HOMRA, since he didn’t want to bother Kamamoto after asking for his help the other day, to bring the present to Mikoto. He probably could have walked, but his stitches still pulled every now and then, and Tatara didn’t want to irritate his wound. He could only imagine what Kusanagi would do if he showed up at HOMRA bleeding.

He’d been somewhat nervous about his first day back at HOMRA, knowing that all eyes would probably be on him, and he wasn’t wrong. He was very quickly swallowed by a sea of people patting him on the back and asking about his recovery. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he reassured them all. He bowed politely before making his way to the elevator, so he could go up to Kusanagi’s office.

Tatara grinned cheekily as he exited the elevator, reaching into his pocket for his keychain. Many years ago, he’d made a copy of Kusanagi’s office key. Kusanagi had been annoyed then, but he didn’t really care anymore, and Tatara and Mikoto were pretty much free to go in and out as they pleased. Just as Tatara rounded the corner, he heard a familiar deep laugh, like it was pulled straight out of a dream.

The keys clattered to the floor. He bent over to pick them up, and then turned to where he heard footsteps. 

It wasn’t a ghost; it was Mikoto, in the flesh.

He looked good, his black suit accentuating his height and the broadness of his shoulders. It had been a while since Tatara had seen him in a suit, since he had always dressed casually when they were together.

Spotting Tatara, Mikoto had stopped in his tracks. Tatara watched the small grin slide off his face.

“Tatara!”

It took a moment to process the fact that Anna had run towards him and wrapped her tiny arms around his waist. After a moment, he returned the hug, patting her back gently. “Hello, Anna,” he said.

“How’s your injury?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” he said, chuckling. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she said. “I’m working with Mikoto.”

Right.

Tatara turned his eyes back to Mikoto, who’d left a wide berth between them, who was avoiding Tataras’ gaze. Tatara’s stomach twisted. “That’s great,” he said, with his most practiced smile. “I’m just going to see Kusanagi-san.”

“He’s not back yet,” she said.

“Come on, Anna,” Mikoto said brusquely. “We should go.”

Anna turned to look at Mikoto curiously. Even she could pick up on the tension. 

“Work hard, Anna,” Tatara said. “Have fun, too.”

“Okay,” she said, and leaned in to hug him again.

“Keep an eye on Mikoto, okay?” Tatara whispered, and he could feel Anna nod against him.

Anna ran back to Mikoto and took his hand. Tatara couldn’t help but smile at the cute picture they made, Anna so tiny beside Mikoto, the two of them so serious-looking. He waved slightly at Mikoto, and Mikoto nodded in return. Then the pair of them disappeared down the hallway, leaving Tatara almost trembling in his place.

  
  
  


When Kusanagi found him, Tatara was standing in his office, at the huge windows, looking down below him. Tatara could make out Mikoto’s figure, and Anna’s beside him. They were probably waiting for a car, Tatara figured, and maybe Mikoto was taking one last cigarette break before sliding into the car, like he used to. Tatara would sit in the car and watch Mikoto smoke, admiring a totally unguarded Mikoto who was unaware he was being watched through tinted windows.

Tatara replayed the change in Mikoto’s expression over and over again in his head; the way his smile had slipped, his expression shuttered.

Like he had really not wanted to see Tatara.

Over the years, Tatara’d brought out many different expressions in Mikoto: exasperation, fondness, frustration, even desire. But he’d never caused such a cold, hard look before. 

Tatara’s heart clenched in his chest.

“Totsuka?” 

Tatara turned around to see Kusanagi, eyebrows raised, looking slightly concerned. He hadn’t even heard him come in.

Tatara smiled as easily as he could. “Don’t be mad, Kusanagi-san!” he chirped, before Kusanagi could scold him for leaving the house. “I just wanted to have lunch with you, here in the office.” He gestured towards the bag of home-cooked food he’d brought.

Kusanagi rolled his eyes and knocked Tatara on the head. “Fine,” he said. “But Kamamoto is driving you home right after.” 

“Sure,” Tatara said, distracted. He spared another glance out the window, where another figure had joined Anna and Mikoto. Tatara recognized it as Anna’s guardian, Honami, who he’d met a few times before.

Kusanagi’s gaze followed Tatara’s, and he chuckled, a little guilty. “Ah, so you saw Anna and Mikoto?”

“I ran into them,” Tatara said lightly, hoping his voice sounded even. “Kusanagi-san, were you hiding them from me?” he teased.

“Sorry,” Kusanagi said. “I meant to tell you that Mikoto was here, I just forgot.”

Forgot, my ass, Tatara thought. “So he’s back? That’s good.”

“No, it’s just temporary,” Kusanagi said. “Which is too bad, because Anna really adores him, for some strange reason.”

Tatara smiled. “They seem to get along,” he said, eyes still on their tiny shapes down below.

“Yeah,” Kusanagi said, oblivious to Tatara’s mood. He reached into the bag of food and started spreading the containers out on his desk. “I think Honami has a little crush on Mikoto, too.” He chuckled. “She’d be good for him, I think. Get him out of his little funk.”

Tatara’s eyes stung, and he kept his back to Kusanagi so that he couldn’t see the wetness of them. He watched down below as the three figures climbed into a car and drove off, out of Tatara’s view. He fixed his eyes on the spot where Mikoto had been, even if he was gone now, thinking again of the smile that had slipped from Mikoto’s face.

Tatara could still remember the first time he’d seen Mikoto smile a  _ real  _ smile. He’d been so young then, and he hadn’t quite understood why his heart had pounded at the sight. And while Tatara had been the talent, in truth, he was the one who had been starstruck. The first time he’d laid eyes on Mikoto, Tatara had known he was special. He’d decided many years ago that even if his crush never amounted to anything, he would still spend his days trying to draw out that smile, that laugh, from Mikoto.

Tatara couldn’t help but feel like he’d taken it from him, somehow. 

“Do you think,” Tatara said absently, “that Mikoto would stay with Anna if I left?”

Tatara heard Kusanagi choke behind him, and when it turned into a coughing fit, Tatara finally turned around to face him. Kusanagi put down the container of rice and took a sip of water. When he finally caught his breath, he said angrily, “What the hell, Totsuka?”

“He should stay with Anna,” Tatara said. “Hasn’t it been good for him?”

Kusanagi was frowning at him. “Maybe, but Mikoto’s a grown man. It was his choice to leave, and it would be his choice to come back. It’s not up to you to play the martyr.”

Tatara didn’t exactly agree, but it wasn’t something he wanted to fight about, especially since Kusanagi didn’t have all the information. Tatara had never been more tempted to tell him the truth, but he wouldn’t be the one to out Mikoto behind his back, even if he had never really cared about that.

Kusanagi continued, “And if that’s not enough for you, you also have a pretty expensive contract with HOMRA. You think I’d just let you out of that?”   
  
That made Tatara laugh. “Ever the businessman, Kusanagi-san.”

Some of the worry lifted from Kusanagi’s face. “That’s better. Now, come on. I thought you came here to have lunch.” He ushered Tatara into his big, cushy office chair -- the one he’d never let Tatara sit in, usually -- and pushed a plate in front of him. Tatara felt like he was one step away from being spoon-fed, but he couldn’t help but be endeared by Kusanagi’s attempts at caretaking.

Tatara picked at his lunch and listened halfheartedly to Kusanagi’s stories about HOMRA until Kusanagi’s phone rang and he sighed. “I’ve got to get to a meeting,” he said. “Sorry.” He typed out a message on his phone, and a few moments later, Kamamoto knocked on the door.

“I’m here to take you home, Totsuka-san,” Kamamoto said.

“Are you sure you have time?” Tatara asked.

“Of course,” Kamamoto replied. “I need to pick up Yata, anyways.”

“Go get some rest,” Kusanagi said sternly. “I’ll call you tonight.”

Tatara couldn’t help but grin. “You’re going to make a great father someday, Kusanagi-san!” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kusanagi said. “Go away.” 

  
  


Kusanagi must have been right about Tatara needing rest, because he felt strangely detached from everything as Kamamoto drove him through the city. 

“Totsuka-san,” Kamamoto called, and Tatara snapped out of his daze and realized that they were in front of his apartment building.   
  
“Thanks, Kamamoto,” he said.

“Call me if you need anything,” Kamamoto said earnestly, and his kindness pulled at Tatara’s heart.

“I will,” he lied. “Good night.”

Walking into his apartment, Tatara felt far more exhausted than he should have, considering he’d only gone out for lunch. He sprawled out on the couch and wrapped himself in his softest blanket. Shutting his eyes, he hoped to take a nap and wake up in a better mood. 

But he couldn’t stop replaying it over and over in his mind: it hadn’t been the job, or HOMRA, that Mikoto had been escaping, after all-- it was Tatara.

He curled up into a tiny ball, as if that could somehow shield him from that fact.

He was pulled from his melancholy thoughts by the chirping of his phone.

He had a message.

_ Dinner? _

Tatara chuckled; it’d been a while since he’d last heard from this old friend.

_ Sure, _ he replied.  _ Let me know when. _

Setting down his phone, Tatara grabbed his battered old lyric book that was sitting on the coffee table. He flipped to the most recent entry and traced the words with his fingertips. He had written it months ago, and it was still true, but as he read the lyrics, his skin prickled with something like regret. What had changed, since he’d last seen Mikoto, for him to have looked at Tatara like that? Tatara had given him this.

He hadn’t meant for it to be a burden; he’d simply wanted Mikoto to know how he felt, and how he would always feel. 

What was he supposed to do with all of this now?

  
  
  


Two days later, Tatara entered a small, high-end restaurant, searching for a trio of familiar faces. He stopped to greet the hostess, who had clearly been working there long enough not to react to a celebrity patron. With a polite smile, she led him into the dining area, and Tatara spotted the contrasting silver and raven heads immediately.

“Tatara!”   
  
Tatara was immediately hugged by the only other person who called him by his given name.

“Nice to see you, Neko-chan,” he said, laughing. She released him and he sat down beside her, finally able to greet the rest of their party. “Kuroh-kun, Shiro-kun, it’s nice to see you, too.”

“How are you doing, Totsuka-san?” Kuroh asked him.

“I’m fine,” Tatara said. “Practically all better.”   
  
“It was scary, seeing you on the news like that,” Neko said, heterochromatic eyes sparkling at him.

“We’re sorry we weren’t able to visit you in the hospital,” Shiro added.

Tatara’s smile tightened. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “It’s fine.”

After all, they were even busier than he was. Together, Neko and Shiro were a famous idol duo called  _ Hakumai-tō. _ Kuroh had been raised in the industry, his adoptive father being the original founder of the Silver agency. Although he was young, four years younger than Tatara himself, he was basically Shiro’s bodyguard. (And Tatara knew he was also Shiro’s boyfriend, although that was a tightly-kept secret.) The trio were just about to start the first leg of their massive world tour.

The waiter arrived at their table and did a double take before handing them the wine list and menus. They ordered a bottle of wine for the table and the waiter thanked them politely before scurrying off. Tatara smiled into his menu; he was still amused when people were starstruck. 

“You must all be excited for the start of your tour, huh?” he asked.

“We were,” Shiro said, “until…”

“There’s a bit of a problem,” Kuroh explained. “Yukari was supposed to open for us, but there were some… creative differences.”

Neko scoffed. “He was a diva,” she said. “And he quit.”

“I’m so sorry, you guys,” Tatara said. He couldn’t say that he was surprised; he didn’t know Mishakuji Yukari very well, but he did have a reputation for being difficult to work with anyone who didn’t reach his high aesthetic standards. It was still shocking, though, that he would pull something like this with Kuroh, who he’d known for a very long time.

Yukari had also been mentored by Kuroh’s adoptive father. Miwa Ichigen had been a kind man; Tatara had met him, as a child, along with a tiny Kuroh. After hearing Tatara sing, he had encouraged him to pursue music, and it hadn’t been long after that he’d met Kusanagi and Mikoto. 

Tatara had been heartbroken for Kuroh when Miwa had passed away last year. Glancing between Kuroh and Shiro, he couldn’t help but be happy that Kuroh found someone to care for after losing the person he loved most in the world.

The waiter brought their wine and glasses of water, and Tatara took a sip. “Have you figured out who’s going to open for you, then?”

Kuroh and Shiro glanced at each other, and Tatara raised an eyebrow.

“Well…” Shiro hesitated, tilting his head at Kuroh.

“Totsuka-san, that’s partially why we asked you here tonight,” Kuroh said, in his most business-like voice. 

“Huh?”

“Just say it, Kurosuke,” Neko said impatiently. “We want you to come with us, Tatara!” 

“Me?” Tatara almost dropped his glass.

“We know that it’s the worst possible time to ask, since you’ve just been off for health reasons,” Shiro said quickly. 

Tatara chewed on his lip. He couldn’t say it, but the opportunity to get out of the city couldn’t have come at a better time.

“Of course.” Kuroh nodded. “And you wouldn’t have to come with us for the whole tour. However many shows you might feel comfortable with, if you’re up to it. It’ll give us time to find someone else, at the very least.”

Tatara hesitated. “I’m flattered,” he managed to say. “Can I… Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Shiro said. 

“Do you think Kusanagi-san will have a problem with it?” Kuroh asked.

Tatara chuckled. “He might have to be convinced,” he said lightly.

“Then we’ll convince him!” Neko said, and they all laughed at her enthusiasm.

For the rest of their dinner, Tatara was distracted with thoughts of going on tour. Suddenly, he longed for it; getting out of his apartment, staying away from HOMRA and everything it represented for him. It sounded like what he needed.

He just needed to convince Kusanagi that he was in good enough shape to go.

By the time they were leaving the restaurant, after settling their tabs, Tatara was so tired and distracted that he didn’t even notice they’d walked into a crowd of flashing cameras. 

“Shit,” Kuroh muttered. “Someone must have alerted the media.”

As reporters screamed his name, Tatara could just imagine how Kusanagi would scold him for assuming he’d be able to just take a taxi home.

“Come,” Kuroh said, grabbing Tatara’s wrist. “We’ll take you home.” He pulled Tatara along, his lean frame somehow effectively guarding Tatara from the mob of clamoring paparazzi.

“You’re so strong, Kuroh-kun!” he teased. 

He slid into the black SUV beside them and gave the driver his address. 

“Think over the tour stuff,” Kuroh said, as Tatara was climbing out of the car. 

“Give us a call when you’ve talked to Kusanagi-san,” Shiro added.

Tatara smiled. “I will. Thanks, you guys.”   
  
“Good night, Tatara!” Neko said warmly.

“Good night!” he replied, stepping out of the car.

After a quick bath and warm cup of tea, Tatara settled into bed. He fell asleep surprisingly quickly, imagining what kind of setlist he’d put together as he drifted off.

  
  


♪♫♪♬♪♫

Surprisingly, Mikoto decided that he liked mornings best.

He picked Anna up at eight o’clock sharp, because she had voice lessons in the small rehearsal space at HOMRA at 8:30. Her voice and dance lessons lasted the entire morning, which meant Mikoto was free to laze around at HOMRA, usually in Kusanagi’s office, or even to sneak home if he felt like it. While he was still annoyed that Kusanagi had asked this favor of him, he had to admit that Anna’s schedule was much more relaxed than any he’d ever had before.

This morning, he arrived at Anna’s place a few minutes early. Honami welcomed him in, smiling warmly at him. “Good morning, Suoh-kun,” she said. “Anna will be a few minutes. Would you like a cup of coffee?” 

“I’m good,” he said. “I’ll just wait outside.”

“Oh, okay,” Honami replied, and Mikoto wondered why she sounded so disappointed.

The drives to HOMRA were much quieter than what Mikoto was used to. Sometimes Anna asked him a question about their schedule, which he answered, and sometimes she asked him weird personal questions, which he ignored. 

When Mikoto walked into Kusanagi’s office, after escorting Anna to her lesson, it already smelled faintly of coffee, from the machine Kusanagi kept in there. Kusanagi himself was at his desk, sipping a mug.

“Morning,” Kusanagi said.

“Morning,” Mikoto replied, already shrugging out of his suit jacket and loosening his tie. He plopped himself down on Kusanagi’s fairly comfortable leather couch and lay back.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” Kusanagi said.   
  
“I’m good,” Mikoto said. He kind of wanted to nap, and since Anna would be busy the whole morning, he could at least get a few hours in. 

The obnoxious chiming of Kusanagi’s phone was hard to ignore, but it was Kusanagi swearing under his breath that had Mikoto opening an eye to peer at him.

“That idiot,” Kusanagi said harshly. He reached for the remote and turned on the big screen TV he kept in his office, flipping through the channels until he landed on one of those ridiculous entertainment news programs. 

_ “Last night, HOMRA’s Totsuka Tatara met with two of the hottest stars on the planet, Shiro and Neko of Hakumai-tō.” _

Mikoto had been ready to roll over to ignore whatever trashy news story Kusanagi was watching, but his eyes were stuck to the screen when the program cut to a grainy image of Totsuka in the restaurant, smiling and laughing across from Kuroh and Shiro. They obviously hadn’t realized they were being photographed. The program cut to more images, this time clearly paparazzi photographs, of Kuroh hustling Neko, Shiro and Totsuka into a car. Mikoto’s eyes lingered on Kuroh’s protective stance, his hand around Totsuka’s wrist, and his heart clenched traitorously. 

_ “There has been some speculation over whether this was a dinner between friends, or some kind of business meeting,”  _ one of the hosts said.  _ “Sources have told us that HOMRA Management has been in shambles after the shooting weeks ago. Could Totsuka be making a switch?” _

Kusanagi was livid. “All the stories are like this,” he ranted, scrolling through his phone. “Wondering if they’re just collaborating, or if Totsuka’s leaving, or… if he’s secretly dating Neko. Or Shiro. Or both.”

“What?” Mikoto choked, then cleared his throat. “You know it’s all bullshit, so what does it matter what the headlines are?” 

“Ugh,” Kusanagi groaned. “Because Totsuka is just as dumb as you are and I don’t know what he’s thinking right now.” Finally, Kusanagi pressed his phone to his ear. “Totsuka?” he demanded. “Have you seen the headlines from this morning?” He frowned at whatever Totsuka said. “Yes, about that. Secret business meetings? Really?” Kusanagi’s eyes went sharp. “What do you mean, not exactly?” After a long pause, “Get your ass in here. No, you’re not taking a cab, idiot. I’ll send someone.” He hung up aggressively and sighed. “Mikoto, would you... “ He seemed to remember himself. “Uh, never mind. I’ll call Kamamoto.”

Eyeing the tight lines of Kusanagi’s face, Mikoto sighed. “I’ll go.”

“Thanks, Mikoto.”   
  
“Whatever.”

  
  
  


Pulling up to Totsuka’s building, Mikoto breathed in deeply. It wouldn’t even be thirty minutes, he reminded himself. He could handle that much.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel when Totsuka opened the backseat door. 

“Good morning, Kamamoto!” Totsuka said sunnily. “On a scale of one to ten, how angry is Kusanagi-san?” Only when he was settled in his seat did he glance up, and when their eyes met in the rearview mirror, his lips parted in surprise. “Oh.”

Mikoto would have expected braying laughter from Totsuka, or a funny quip. But Totsuka just looked lost, having gone uncharacteristically silent.

Mikoto pulled out of his parking spot and onto the road, and Totsuka said nothing apart from a polite “Good morning.” Mikoto didn’t usually mind the quiet, but this had his gut twisting.

“Seven,” Mikoto said.

“Huh?”

“Seven, on a scale of one to ten.” Mikoto glanced in the rearview mirror. 

Totsuka looked surprised, but then, slowly, he smiled. “Hmm,” he said. “I think I’ve dealt with worse than that before.”

Mikoto chuckled, and Totsuka’s smile bloomed into something soft and sweet. 

The silence was less oppressive after that, though each time their eyes met in the rearview mirror, the air seemed to get heavier and heavier.

This wouldn’t be so hard, Mikoto thought, if Totsuka would stop looking at him with such a gentle expression.  _ Why aren’t you mad at me? _ Mikoto wanted to ask. He probably didn’t want to know the answer, though.

Once they arrived at HOMRA, after a moment of hesitation, Mikoto escorted Totsuka from the car into the office. It took them far too long to make it through the building, with all the people stopping to greet Totsuka, but eventually Mikoto was able to drag him into an elevator. As the door shut, the two of them trapped together, the tension returned. Mikoto snuck a glance at Totsuka, who was pointedly looking down at his feet, biting his lip. Thankfully the ride wasn’t long, and Mikoto was the first to escape the confines of the elevator when they reached Kusanagi’s floor. 

Totsuka knocked on Kusanagi’s door much less obnoxiously than usual. 

“Come in,” Kusanagi called from inside.

“Good morning, Kusanagi-san!” Totsuka said brightly, and Kusanagi sent him a murderous glare. 

“Sit down, Totsuka,” Kusanagi said sternly.

Mikoto let his eyes linger on Totsuka’s sunny smile for one long moment before he said, “I’ve got to go get Anna,” and walked out of the room.

Later, when he drove Anna to the recording studio, he swore he could still smell the sweetness of Totsuka’s cologne in the car.


	4. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a kudos and/or comment. They really mean so much to me!
> 
> You may have noticed that the chapter count went up. Part 3 was getting too long, so I split it into two parts. That means that there will be a Part 4, and then an epilogue. Unfortunately, there's a lot of angst in this part, but then Part 4 will contain some fun, fluffy stuff :) 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

**Part III **

HOMRA’s annual New Year’s party, for Mikoto, had its pros and cons. Cons: It was loud, full of annoying industry people, and, generally, drunk people were much more of a hassle security-wise. The pros, though, were that Mikoto was usually allowed to celebrate at least a little, and he didn’t have to pay for his beers. Last year, he’d used work as a pretense to stick close to Totsuka all night -- closer than was strictly necessary, professionally speaking.

Mikoto tried not to think about that night last year.

He wondered if Totsuka would still have kissed him, if he’d known how things would turn out.

Pushing away those useless thoughts, he pulled up to Anna’s place, only feeling a little bit of dread. Honami answered the door, as she usually did, and invited Mikoto inside. She was still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, a couple of curlers in her hair. “You look very handsome, Suoh-kun,” she said warmly. 

Mikoto looked down at his plain black suit, the one he’d basically been wearing every day since he’d started working with Anna. “I’m dressed like I always am,” he said.

Honami flushed. “Still,” she said, chuckling nervously.

“Mikoto,” Anna said at her usual low volume, stepping into the living room. “How do I look?”

She was certainly dressed for a party, her red dress a little poofier and sparklier than usual. “Um… very fancy,” he said. Kusanagi probably would have smacked him for such a pathetic answer, but Anna smiled like she was pleased.

“I’ll see you guys there later on,” Honami said, waving them off.

After settling Anna into the back, Mikoto slid into the driver’s seat. As he turned the key to start the engine, he glanced down at the empty cupholder, where his phone usually sat. “Shit,” he swore. Then he remembered that there was a child in the car. “Sorry,” he added.

Anna just blinked. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot my phone. I’m gonna have to go back for it, sorry.”

Anna’s eyes sparkled. “I get to see where you live?”

Thinking of the pile of unwashed dishes in his sink and his unmade bed, Mikoto chuckled. “Lucky you,” he said.

Still, Anna looked around his place with wide, excited eyes, like she was at a museum exhibit and not the living room of his tiny, messy apartment.

“Wait here,” he instructed her, heading to his bedroom. He had to dig through it a little to find his phone, but it didn’t take him too long. It was almost dead, but he’d be able to charge it in the car. 

When he returned to Anna, she was staring at the still-wrapped Christmas present that was sitting on his coffee table beside a dirty ashtray and empty beer glass. The still-wrapped gift from  _ Totsuka. _

She turned to look at him curiously. “Is this for someone?” she asked. It was impossible not to notice the holiday wrapping. “Why haven’t you given it to them?”

“No, it’s not,” Mikoto said shortly. 

“Then why didn’t you open it?” Anna asked.

Mikoto sighed. “Because I didn’t feel like it.”

Anna tilted her head at him, in that creepy way she did when she was trying to see through him. “Why?” she pressed. “Are you scared of what’s inside?”

“What?” Mikoto frowned. “Why would I be scared?”

Anna stared at him. “Do you feel bad because you didn’t give them one?”

“How do you know I didn’t?” he muttered, and Anna just shrugged.

“You should open it,” she said. “So you can say thank you.”

“I already said thank you,” Mikoto said, even if that wasn’t strictly true.

“But you didn’t  _ mean _ it.”

Mikoto groaned. Why was he arguing with a ten-year-old? “Let’s go, brat,” he said. 

Anna cast one more long look at the present, like it offended her, before taking his hand and following him out of the apartment. 

They drove silently, Mikoto itching for a smoke, until Anna said, quietly, “That present was from Tatara.”

Mikoto froze. “Why would you think that?” he asked flatly. 

“I know his handwriting. And he signed it, Mikoto.”

Mikoto didn’t respond, pulling into the private parking lot behind the club that Kusanagi was renting out. The owner had been friends with Kusanagi’s uncle, and Kusanagi had decided to keep using the venue for their New Year’s parties, which had been great for the club’s business.

“I still think you should open it,” Anna said as they got out of the car and headed into the club. Mikoto pretended that he couldn’t hear her over the bustle of the party.

  
  


If Mikoto had thought that Kusanagi would tone it down this year, because of everything that had happened, he was proven wrong as soon as he stepped through the doors. The lavish party was usually attended by all the HOMRA staff, talent and otherwise, their friends and family, some of HOMRA’s partners, and select members of the press. Some of the talent usually gave performances, so Mikoto had come early with Anna so she could get ready. Even so, there were tons of workers buzzing about, stocking the bar, and some of the press and HOMRA guests had already arrived.

Kusanagi found them in the small backstage area not long before they were scheduled to perform. Mikoto was grateful he’d gotten to hide back here; he wouldn’t have to watch the place fill up, wouldn’t run into anyone  _ else _ who might have been coming in. 

“Ready to go on, Anna?” Kusanagi asked. She would be the first to perform, after Kusanagi said a few words. Anna nodded. “You and Totsuka will do great,” Kusanagi said.

Mikoto was careful not to react, except to glance at Kusanagi, who was pointedly ignoring him. That particular detail had been left out of Kusanagi’s brief, but Anna didn’t seem surprised, so it was probably on purpose to fuck with Mikoto.   
  
Sure enough, Totsuka joined them backstage, smiling brightly. He was dressed in a dark fitted suit, which was a rare sight, since his stylist usually preferred to put him in more trendy clothes, like the tight jeans and oversized sweaters that had become his signature look. Mikoto realized he’d been staring and quickly looked away.

The crowd cheered as Kusanagi stepped up to the mic onstage. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you all for coming out tonight.” The crowd roared again, and Kusanagi laughed. “This year has been a tough one for HOMRA,” he said, and Mikoto couldn’t help but sneak a look at Totsuka, who was smiling softly. “But we’ve also got a lot to celebrate,” Kusanagi continued. “We’re a family here at HOMRA, and we’re going to start the new year stronger than ever.” Cheers rippled out through the crowd, and Mikoto swore that he could hear Yata. “So, everyone, let’s raise a glass. To HOMRA!”

The crowd echoed Kusanagi’s toast. “To HOMRA!”

At their cue, Mikoto took his place in front of the stage, off to the side enough that he wouldn’t block anyone’s view. A soft, sweet melody started on the piano, and Mikoto didn’t need to turn around to know that Totsuka was playing. 

The crowd was totally charmed by Anna’s performance. It was hard not to be mesmerized; she was so quiet and serious most of the time, so to hear her now, voice loud and powerful, it was really something. Mikoto spotted Kusanagi watching with a proud grin, and he shook his head at how sentimental he could be.

When the song was done, Totsuka led Anna backstage. Mikoto had to take the long way round, and by the time he got there, Totsuka was already gone. Anna was smiling a soft, tiny smile, one that reassured Mikoto that Anna truly enjoyed music and performing. He’d heard the horror stories of kids who were forced into the industry.

Not that he worried about Anna or anything like that.

“Come,” he said. She took his hand, and Mikoto led her to the small booth that Kusanagi had reserved for them. 

“Anna!” Honami was already there, beaming at Anna. No longer in a pair of jeans, Honami was dressed in a sparkly black dress not unlike Anna’s. Anna released Mikoto’s hand and ran to hug Honami. “You two were wonderful,” Homani said.

“It was fun,” Anna said quietly, and Honami stroked her hair.

With Anna and Honami tucked into their own little corner, Mikoto turned his gaze to the busiest part of the party, the bar and makeshift dance floor. His eyes landed on Totsuka almost immediately, because after years of seeking out Totsuka in situations exactly like this, it wasn’t an easy habit to break. He wondered if his eye would ever  _ not _ be drawn to him.

Totsuka was standing at the bar, beside some suit-clad business executive type. Totsuka had always been good at that part of the job -- schmoozing with the suits and charming the reporters. The guy sure looked charmed by Totsuka, at least, with the way he was leaning into Totsuka’s personal space. Totsuka’s smile was stiff and false; even from where he was standing, Mikoto could tell that Totsuka was uncomfortable. 

He frowned. Taking a few steps forward, he could clearly make out the man’s hand, resting on the curve above Totsuka’s ass, slowly sliding down…

Before he could think it through, Mikoto was grabbing that wandering hand. “Hands off,” he said brusquely, twisting the man’s wrist slightly. The man yelped, and Totsuka gaped at Mikoto. He dropped the man’s wrist, realizing he’d probably been too rough without someone far more important than him.

He shouldn’t have done it, he knew that much. They weren’t at a fan meet-and-greet, and there was no “no touching” policy here that he had to enforce. This had been more than simple concern for Totsuka’s safety.

He hadn’t intended to start a scene, but people were staring at them and whispering. Kusanagi rushed over, no doubt to smooth things over. “Apologies, Saito-san,” he said quickly. The man glared at Mikoto, nursing his wrist as if Mikoto had broken him or something. He’d used more force than he needed to, but he hadn’t gone  _ that  _ far. “Our security has been on edge lately, as you could probably imagine,” Kusanagi continued, with that fake smile that was more threatening than polite. 

The man glanced at Totsuka, then back at Kusanagi, and his glare disappeared. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I suppose it would be,” he said, straightening his tie even though it hadn’t been knocked crooked. “Excuse me.” He walked away, leaving Mikoto, Totsuka, and Kusanagi staring at each other.

Kusanagi’s eyes narrowed. “Mikoto, what was that about?” he asked.

Both Mikoto and Totsuka knew that this hadn’t been about the shooting, not totally. 

“Nothing.” Mikoto turned away, suddenly uncomfortably warm in the oppressive heat of the overcrowded party. 

It was Kamamoto who stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Mikoto-san, why don’t you take a break? I can watch over Anna-chan until you get back,” he offered.

It pissed Mikoto off that Kusanagi had probably asked Kamamoto to let Mikoto cool off, but Mikoto was dying for a cigarette, so he didn’t care.  _ Fuck everyone at this stupid party,  _ he thought.

He climbed a familiar set of stairs and pushed the heavy door open, and was immediately hit by a rush of cool air. Guests weren’t allowed on the rooftop, so Mikoto had been using it as a refuge for the past few New Year’s parties. He sat in the same corner he’d chosen last year and lit a cigarette. Taking a long drag, he fought back a shiver. Being alone, away from the people and noise, was worth the cold.

He’d just closed his eyes when the rooftop door creaked open. He didn’t have to open them to know that it was Totsuka who had followed him up.

“Up here again?” Totsuka teased.

Mikoto just took another drag and let it burn. 

Totsuka sat himself down beside Mikoto, close enough that their elbows almost brushed. “It’s colder than last year,” he said conversationally. “Remember last year, when it snowed? It was so pretty.”

Mikoto turned to look at him. Face tilted up, Totsuka was blowing up into the night sky to watch his breath in the chilled air. The stylist had put makeup on Totsuka tonight, Mikoto thought distantly, eyeing Totsuka’s mouth and the pale gloss on his lips. He wondered if it was the one that tasted like cherry. That’s what he’d been wearing last year, in the memory that Mikoto was desperately trying to push out of his mind.

Dragging his eyes away from Totsuka’s mouth, Mikoto looked up, too, blowing smoke and watching it curl and fade into the dark sky. “What did you need, Totsuka?” Mikoto asked quietly. 

“I haven’t really given you the space you wanted, have I?” Totsuka sighed. “I’m sorry about that.”

Mikoto shrugged. “Not your fault.” He was the one who had agreed to help Kusanagi, after all.

“I think you should stay with Anna,” Totsuka said, and Mikoto stilled. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Totsuka…”

“I’m going on tour, so you won’t have to worry about me. Or about this.”

Mikoto blinked. “What?”

“Kuroh and Shiro invited me on their tour,” Totsuka said. That explained the dinner, and how weird Kusanagi had been about it. “If all goes well, I’ll be gone for months. And maybe after that, things will be easier.” Totsuka took a shaky breath. 

Mikoto stared at the cigarette between his fingers, because he didn’t want to see whatever was on Totsuka’s face right now. “Kusanagi really agreed to that?” he asked.

Totsuka chuckled, but it was still a little strained. “It took some convincing.”

This should have been good news, whether Mikoto wanted to stay with Anna or not. It would be much easier to stay away if Totsuka was already gone, getting back into his music without him. But all Mikoto could think about was the knot twisting in his gut. 

“Well, I’ll let you finish your break in peace,” Totsuka said. He stood and brushed the dirt off his pants. “And thanks, for before.”

“Whatever,” he said, instead of  _ I didn’t only do it for you, you know.  _ He let himself take in Totsuka’s soft smile, since it’d be the last time he’d see him in person for who knew how long.

And then Totsuka was gone, and Mikoto was left alone, like he’d wanted, wondering why it was so hard to breathe.

  
  


The best part of working for a kid was that Mikoto got to leave the party early. Just before midnight, he sat with Anna and Honami in their little VIP booth, pretending to watch the countdown festivities. In reality, his eyes were on Totsuka, who was standing between Yata and Kamamoto, the three of them counting down excitedly, drinks sloshing from their raised glasses with every movement. He tried not to think about how if things had been differently, Totsuka would probably have dragged him into a dark corner by now, to give him a  _ real  _ New Year’s kiss. 

Anna just barely made it to midnight, murmuring a sleepy New Year’s greeting as people cheered and popped their streamers, before promptly passing out. Mikoto scooped Anna up, nodded to Kusanagi from across the room to signal their departure, and he and Honami made their way to the car.

Honami herself had obviously had a few drinks, because she was much chattier than usual, talking Mikoto’s ear off in the car about everyone she’d seen at the party. It was kind of cute that she was still so starstruck even though Anna was about to make it big as an idol, but Mikoto was still grateful when they pulled up to their building. With a still-sleeping Anna in his arms, he followed Honami into the apartment and into Anna’s tiny pink bedroom and set her down in her bed. She was still dressed in her frilly dress, minus her shoes, which had come off in the car, but even so, Mikoto tried to tuck her in as best he could.

“Thank you, Mikoto,” Anna whispered, almost slurring, her eyes still closed.

Mikoto chuckled.  _ This kid is so weird, _ he thought, almost fondly, making his way back out to the living room.

Honami was in the kitchen, filling a kettle with water. “Would you like some tea, Suoh-kun? Or some coffee?”   
  
Mikoto thought of the drive home and suppressed a yawn. “Okay,” he said.

“Which one?” Honami asked, amused.

“Coffee.”

“It’ll just take a minute. Have a seat,” Honami offered.

Mikoto sat down on the worn leather sofa and looked around, feeling awkward. He pulled out his phone to occupy himself. Hesitating, he typed out a message to Kusanagi, even if he probably wouldn’t answer until the next morning.

_ You’re letting him go on tour _

To Mikoto’s surprise, the reply came only a few moments later:

_ It was his choice. _

Mikoto’s phone chimed again with another message.

_ Plus, I trust Kuroh. He won’t let anything happen. _

Mikoto sighed.  _ When does he leave,  _ he typed out, thumb hovering over the send button. He sounded too invested in this, but it’s not like such a simple question would be what clued Kusanagi in, after a whole year. He sent it. 

_ Two days,  _ Kusanagi replied. Then,  _ Are you gonna stay on with Anna? _

Mikoto stared at the message, frowning. 

“Everything okay?” Honami asked, holding out a steaming mug that said “World’s Best Teacher” in a bright yellow font.

“Yeah,” he said, accepting the mug. “Thanks.”

Honami sat beside him, a little closer than he would have liked. Shifting awkwardly, Mikoto wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the coffee. Hands cupping her mug, Honami was staring into it, biting her lip nervously. When she looked up and realized that Mikoto was watching her, she flushed. “Suoh-kun, can I ask you something?” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and Mikoto felt dread well up in the pit of his stomach.

“What?” he asked shortly.

“Are you… Do you have someone?” 

Mikoto frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Like… someone you love?”

Mikoto tsked, gripping his mug tightly. “Look, Honami, you’re Anna’s guardian…” he started, as if professional boundaries had ever stopped him before.

Honami’s eyes widened. “No, no,” she said quickly, “that’s not it. I’m not… Well, maybe at first, but…” She took a deep breath. 

Mikoto stared down at his hands, wrapped tightly around the mug.

“Anna, she keeps saying that there’s someone you miss,” Honami continued. “I guess I wondered if that might be true. You seem… sad sometimes?” 

Mikoto was not exactly known for being a very easy person to read. It was impossible for Anna, a ten-year-old, to understand him so well. “That brat,” he said, exasperated. “Is she psychic or something?”

Honami chuckled, sounding relieved. “Sometimes I think she might be,” she said. “Well, I hope things work out for you and your someone.”

Mikoto sighed. “It’s a little too late for that,” he said quietly. After all, he had let Totsuka get hurt, and then hurt him over and over again. “I messed things up,” he admitted, and then wondered why he’d chosen to say anything at all.

Honami hummed. “You’d be surprised at the power of an apology. And some pretty flowers,” she said wryly. “I know for a fact that Totsuka-kun likes daisies.”

Mikoto choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken. Honami was lucky that he didn’t drop the mug on her nice, beige rug. “What are you talking about?” he rasped.

Honami watched him closely, smiling. “I saw what happened at the party, with that man.”

“I was just…”

“And I had a pretty good view of everything from my table tonight, and Totsuka-kun didn’t take his eyes off of you all night.” She hesitated. “It’s him that you miss, right? He misses you, too, I think. Is it because of the shooting that you…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mikoto said brusquely. “We’re not talking about this.”

“Okay,” Honami said gently. “If you ever do want to talk about it, you can. I mean, I’ll listen.”

“Whatever,” Mikoto said. He set down his mug and stood. “Thanks for the coffee.” As he hovered at the front door, he couldn’t help but ask, “Did Anna tell you about the present?”  It would explain why Honami had figured out things that not even Kusanagi had.

Honami blinked at him. “What present?” she asked.

“Never mind,” he said, fighting a grin. “Good night.”

_That brat is a pretty good kid,_ he thought.

  
  
  


That night, after driving home and settling into bed, Mikoto had a nightmare. It wasn’t exactly unusual; Mikoto was no stranger to bad dreams, especially after Totsuka had been shot. Sometimes, he dreamt of that day, and was forced to watch the shooting replay over and over again. Sometimes, he dreamt that he was shot in Totsuka’s place, and woke up gripping his stomach, searching for blood. This dream, though, was different.

_ Mikoto was sitting on his couch, in front of the television, with Anna on one side and Honami on the other. With an old remote, he flipped through a couple channels until Anna said, “Here.” _

_ One the screen was a perfect replication of Totsuka’s shooting. Mikoto watched with horror as the guy took out his gun, and flinched at the sound of the shot, of Yata’s sobbing and Kusnaagi’s desperate screams. _

_ “Totsuka,” Mikoto said. _

_ “He can’t hear you,” Anna said. _

_ Totsuka lay sprawled out on the floor, covered in blood, gasping for air.  _

_ Mikoto stood, stepping towards the television. “Totsuka,” he said again. _

_ “He can’t hear you,” Anna repeated. _

_ Mikoto reached out, as if he could touch Totsuka through the television, but all he felt was the cold screen.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” Totsuka gasped, before his eyes closed and he lost consciousness.  _ __   
_   
_ __ Panicked, Mikoto swung his arm and punched the television. The screen shattered as it collided with his heavy fist, and Mikoto screamed-- 

Gasping, Mikoto woke in a cold sweat, clenching his fist from the phantom pain. As he caught his breath and his heart slowed, he grabbed for his phone. Not for the first time, after waking from a dream like that, part of him just wanted to hear Totsuka’s voice, to know that he was okay. He’d never actually done anything about it before, but the hot panic still bubbling in his chest was too much to ignore.

Calling Totsuka at this hour was out of the question, even if he probably would have answered, so Mikoto did something he’d never done before.

Opening the web browser on his phone, he searched Totsuka’s name.  _ Desperate times, _ he thought. One of the first results was a news article from only hours ago.

_ TOTSUKA TATARA ANNOUNCES TOUR WITH HAKUMAI-TŌ _

He clicked on the link and a video played immediately. Totsuka was sitting beside a pretty journalist, smiling with his patented sunshine smile.  _ “I’m here with Totsuka Tatara, at HOMRA’s lavish New Year’s party.”  _ She turned to Totsuka.  _ “Now, Totsuka-kun, you’ve just made a big announcement, haven’t you?” _

_ “I do have exciting news!”  _ Totsuka said brightly.  _ “I’ll be opening for Hakumai-tō on their Silver Aura world tour!” _

Mikoto frowned. Even with the makeup and good lighting, he could still see the dark circles under Totsuka’s eyes. He looked tired, exhausted even, and not like someone who should be starting a world tour.

_“That’s wonderful!” _The journalist enthused. _“Can you speak to the rumors that your sudden collaboration with Hakumai-tō_ _means that you are planning on leaving HOMRA Management?” _she asked. _“After all, you do have a history with Yatogami Kuroh-kun.”_

Totsuka laughed sweetly, not phased in the least. He must have been prepped.  _ “HOMRA is my home,”  _ Tostuka said.  _ “And the people there are my family. Of course I’m not leaving!” _

_ “Well, there we have it. Thank you, Totsuka-kun! We wish you all the best on the tour,”  _ the journalist said.  _ “Now, what else are we wishing for you this new year? Good health, and perhaps luck in love?”  _ she asked wryly, winking at the camera.

Totsuka smile wavered, but he recovered quickly, laughing along with her.  _ “Of course! Thank you all for your continued support!”  _ he said, flashing a peace sign.

The journalist thanked Totsuka and signed off, and Mikoto closed the video. Staring up at the ceiling, uncomfortable in his damp sheets, he didn’t feel any better. Was it enough, watching Totsuka through a screen? Would it ever be enough? His stomach churned as images from his dream flashed in his mind.

With all thoughts of sleep gone, Mikoto took a cool shower, soothing his feverish skin. He pulled on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and a clean T-shirt and made his way into the living room.

He stood in front of the present, Anna’s quiet voice echoing in his head.

He stared at the label.  _ “Merry Christmas, Mikoto,”  _ it read, in Totsuka’s surprisingly neat handwriting. He’d signed his name properly, not with the flashy signature he’d developed for autographs.

Slowly, Mikoto unwrapped one side of the box, careful not to tear the pretty paper. Then he unwrapped another side, and another, until the plain brown box was completely uncovered. He let the paper fall to the floor. Sucking in a breath, he opened the lid of the box.

Inside lay an old MP3 player and a pair of headphones. 

Mikoto recognized the damn thing; when he had first met Totsuka, all those years ago, it had practically been attached to Totsuka, full of his favorite music and his own samples and demos. Technology had evolved, and so had Totsuka’s salary, so it had been some time since Mikoto had last seen it.

Picking it up, he finally noticed the sticky note underneath that read “Play me!”

He turned it on. There was a single track in the songlist, and it simply read “King.”

It was obvious what this was, Mikoto thought.

He knew he shouldn’t listen to it. It had been written before everything, he was sure, made for a Mikoto who hadn’t let Totsuka get shot and then left him without a word to deal with the fallout all alone. It wasn’t for him, not anymore, and he didn’t deserve to hear it.

He held it in the palm of his hand, staring intently.

Why had Totsuka still given this to him?

He heard Anna’s damn voice again. 

_ “You should open it. So you can say thank you.” _

_ Thank you, huh? _ Mikoto mused. That didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what he owed Totsuka.   
  
Sighing, he went to the fridge to grab a beer, and took a long pull before he sat down on his couch. He slid the headphones on and, with an unsteady hand, he pressed play.

It was everything he knew it was going to be-- he knew Totsuka, knew his sound. The guitar melody was simply but undeniably lovely, and Totsuka’s voice was his own signature blend of sweet and sultry. But it was the words that pierced Mikoto, through his heart, right to his core.

Mikoto had always known that Totsuka loved him, long before their first kiss. But to hear it said so plainly, so simply like this...

He closed his eyes.

When the song ended, he tucked the MP3 player and headphones back into the box. He drained the rest of his beer and sprawled out on the couch, face pressed into a cushion.

Was it possible that Totsuka still felt that way, after everything that had happened between them? Thinking back to the sweet, gentle way Totsuka had looked at him on the rooftop, Mikoto knew that he did. He wouldn’t be leaving if he didn’t.

And in less than 48 hours, Totsuka would be gone, away for months, thinking that it was what Mikoto wanted.

Was it, though?

Rolling onto his back, Mikoto grabbed the MP3 player again. Letting Totsuka’s voice wash over him like a cooling balm, he slept.


	5. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks! 
> 
> Please note that the rating has changed to E, for explicit sexual content.
> 
> We've only got the epilogue left after this.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Part IV**

“You seem different, Mikoto,” Anna said to him the morning after the New Year’s party, as they drove to HOMRA for Anna’s lessons. Days off were few and far between in this business, even for kids.

Mikoto shrugged, although she wouldn’t be able to see the gesture from the back seat.

“You opened the present,” she said, and it wasn’t a question. Mikoto could see her smile when their eyes met in the rearview mirror. 

The first thing he did after he brought Anna to her singing lessons was sneak into Kusanagi’s office. He scoured Kusanagi’s desk drawers for documents about the tour, before realizing that probably nobody kept physical papers like that anymore. When he failed to find anything, he turned to Kusanagi’s computer.

He scowled at the login page, which demanded a password. 

_ H-O-M-R-A _, he tried, and was promptly denied.

_ H-O-M-R-A-8-6, _he tried again, and the screen changed to Kusanagi’s desktop wallpaper, a picture of the three of them on Kusanagi’s birthday last year. “So dumb,” Mikoto murmured, eyes lingering on Totsuka’s bright smile, on his arms around both Mikoto and Kusanagi’s shoulders, squeezing them both so tightly.

Chuckling to himself, Mikoto found a folder labelled “TOTSUKA TOUR” on the desktop containing the schedule and booking confirmations for the different hotels and venues Totsuka would be going to on the first leg of the tour. 

Kusanagi really needed to up his security, Mikoto thought, if he didn’t want HOMRA to get hacked.

Scrolling through the documents, Mikoto found that the first tour date, tomorrow’s show, wasn’t too far away. He’d be able to make it there after a few hours’ drive. 

Next, Mikoto had to figure out what to do with Anna, since Kamamoto would be joining Totsuka on the tour, and Kusanagi hadn’t hired anyone else yet. Someone had to watch her, and it had to be someone who met Kusanagi’s clearance standards. There was only one place he was sure he could find that.

Which was why his next trip was to Scepter 4 Management. He stood outside the boring, ugly building, which looked more like a government building than anything else, enjoying a cigarette before he went inside and his blood pressure skyrocketed. He’d scheduled a last-minute appointment with the head of Scepter 4, a man by the name of Munakata Reisi. Totsuka had once jokingly called Munakata Mikoto’s arch nemesis, and had Mikoto not despised the idea of giving Munakata any significance in his life, Mikoto would have agreed.

Munakata was pretentious and arrogant, and he loved to hear himself talk, but he had a spotless reputation in security, although he was less of a bodyguard now and more of an executive type. Despite his terrible personality, Mikoto knew that Kusanagi would implicitly trust anyone that Munakata recommended to stay with Anna. 

Swallowing his pride, Mikoto stepped through the doors of Scepter 4. 

Of course, the first person he saw when he stepped out of the elevator was Fushimi. It was no secret that Mikoto was not well-liked at Scepter 4, which explained the stares he received upon entering, but it was Fushimi who was glaring the sharpest daggers at him. It looked like they were about to assemble an army to escort him out, so Mikoto sighed and stopped at the desk of Munakata’s right-hand woman, Awashimi, who had made the appointment herself. 

“I’m here to see Munakata,” Mikoto said, knowing he didn’t need to introduce himself.

Awashima nodded. “He’s expecting you,” she said, all business. “His office is just down the hall.”

Walking away, Mikoto heard Fushimi murmur to her, “Why did you let him through?”

“Enough, Fushimi,” Awashima replied sternly. 

Mikoto thought of a besotted Kusanagi, who had once said to him, after a tense encounter with Scepter 4 Management, “Isn’t it kind of sexy, the way she’s all no-nonsense?” Mikoto had glanced over at Totsuka, all wry smiles and bright laughter, and thought that no, perhaps nonsense was more his thing.

Mikoto took one last long, deep breath before knocking on Munakata’s office door.

“Come in,” Munakata called from inside. 

Mikoto pushed through the heavy doors, into Munakata’s office. He glanced around; the room was huge, but with none of the homey, personal touches of Kusanagi’s office. Munakata had framed some certificates and newspaper clippings about Scepter 4, and that was the extent of his decor. Thinking back to Kusanagi’s desktop wallpaper, Mikoto fought a grin. No wonder Munakata thought HOMRA was unprofessional.

“Suoh Mikoto,” Munakata greeted diplomatically. He was sitting at his large, spotless desk, posture perfect and hands folded.

“Munakata,” Mikoto returned.

“Please, take a seat.” Munakata gestured towards a chair opposite his desk. “What can I do for you today, Suoh?” he asked, when Mikoto was settled into the chair, tapping his foot anxiously. “I was surprised when Awashima informed me that you were my next appointment.”

He might as well just get to the point, Mikoto thought. He’d get out faster, that way. “I need to go away for a few days, and HOMRA’s short-staffed right now,” he said shortly, hating the idea of airing HOMRA’s dirty laundry to Munakata and his smug goddamn face. 

“I see,” Munakata said, totally unsurprised, smile playing at his lips. The motherfucker already knew what he was about to say, Mikoto realized. “And what is it you need from me?” Munakata asked innocently.

Mikoto sighed. “I need your… help, finding someone to replace me.” 

“My help? How unexpected.” Munakata’s eyes danced with amusement, and Mikoto wanted to punch that stupid face.

“Yeah, well, believe me when I say that I’m here ‘cause I had no other choice,” Mikoto said gruffly.

Munakata chuckled. He opened a drawer of his desk and took out, surprisingly, a pack of cigarettes. “So you need someone to work with young Kushina Anna, then.” He pulled out two and offered one to Mikoto. 

Mikoto accepted it hesitantly. “Yeah, so send someone good, not some asshole.”

Mikoto would have expected that jab to tick off Munakata, maybe start a fight, but to Mikoto’s surprise, Munakata smiled and lit their cigarettes with an ornate blue lighter. “It seems you’ve developed a soft spot for the child.” Mikoto sputtered, but before he could say anything, Munakata continued, “In that case, I’ll take the assignment myself.”

“Tsk, fine.” Mikoto prayed silently for Anna, who would be forced to spend one-on-one time with the most irritating person on the planet. Begrudgingly, though, Mikoto had to admit that Munakata was the best choice, and Kusanagi would have the least reason to complain. Gritting his teeth, he asked, “How much?”

Munakata arched a brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“How much do I owe you for this?”

Munakata eyed him consideringly. “Nothing, for now,” he said. “I quite like the idea of you owing me a favor, or, rather, of HOMRA owing us.”

Scowling, Mikoto gave Munakata all the information he needed to get in touch with Kusanagi, writing down the details on blue official Scepter 4 stationary.

He left Scepter 4 feeling like he’d just made a deal with the devil.

  


He waited until he was home to call Kusanagi, tossing some clothes and toiletries into a bag. He’d be able to leave tomorrow morning and get to the hotel with plenty of time. Hopefully, Kusanagi wouldn’t mind that he was taking the company car. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, as they said. That was one saying Mikoto tended to live by.

_ “Mikoto?” _Kusanagi answered, surprise clear in his voice, since Mikoto usually preferred texting over phone calls.

“Hey,” he said.

_ “What’s up?” _

“I need to take a few days off. I’ve already made arrangements for Anna, so don’t worry.”

_ “Arrangements?” _ Kusanagi said after a moment. _ “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” _

“There’s something I gotta take care of,” Mikoto said. “Munakata will call you soon, I’m sure.”

Kusanagi went silent. _ “Munakata?” _ he said eventually. _ “Okay, now I’m worried. Seriously, Mikoto, what’s going on?” _ He could hear the worry in Kusanagi’s voice and felt a twinge of guilt.

“I’ll explain when I get back, okay?” No matter how this went, Kusanagi probably deserved to know the whole story, finally.

_ “Okay.” _ Kusanagi still sounded lost. _ “Are you okay?” _

“Yeah,” Mikoto said. “I’ll talk to you later. I’ll answer, if you call.” 

_ “Okay. Well, good luck with whatever it is.” _

“Thanks.”

He was going to need it.

He arrived at the hotel Totsuka would be staying at the next day after a long, boring drive that had given him too much time to think of all the ways tonight could go wrong. By a stroke of luck, he was able to rent a room. He took a nap and then returned to the front desk feeling a bit less jittery.

“Hi,” he said to the woman at the desk. “Can you tell me what room Totsuka Tatara is staying in?” Only when the words were leaving his mouth did he realize how absurd it was, to ask for such information about an idol. He probably sounded like a stalker.

“Um,” the woman stuttered, now alarmed. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give out that information.”

Quickly, he pulled out his HOMRA ID card. “I work for HOMRA Management,” he said, flashing her the card. “I know him.”

The woman glanced at the ID and nodded. “I see that, sir, but I’m afraid I still can’t give you that information.”

Mikoto frowned. He could try Kamamoto’s cell, but he wasn’t sure when he’d get a chance to look at his messages. “Then could you leave a message for Kamamoto Rikio? He should be checked in with Totsuka Tatara.”  
  
Swallowing, the woman started typing on her computer. She slid him a piece of paper and a pen, and Mikoto scribbled a quick note for Kamamoto. He slid it back. “It’s urgent,” he said.

The woman nodded. “Is there anything else I can help you with this evening, sir?” she asked politely.

“No,” he said, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets and turning away. “Thanks.”

“Have a good evening, sir,” the woman called after him.

Mikoto went outside to smoke. He knew how long Totsuka would be, getting back, and all he could do now was wait.

♪♫♪♫♪ 

By the time Tatara got back to his hotel room, he was more exhausted than he remembered ever being in his entire life. Everyone had been very understanding about his physical limitations, that he’d need to trade his more upbeat, choreographed numbers for calmer, slower songs. Shiro had even kindly suggested that he do an acoustic set, focusing on playing and singing rather than dancing. He’d agreed, gratefully, but even with his quieter set, it had still been a long, gruelling night, especially since he’d joined Shiro and Neko onstage for one of their encore performances. He was proud of himself for having played a solid show, despite his injury and his exhaustion. It would be a fun tour, he thought, even if it was a little bit lonely without all of his people. Without Mikoto.

He said goodnight to Kamamoto and the rest of the crew and shut himself into his hotel room. He had somewhat of a post-concert ritual that he liked to follow, even when he was this tired and just wanted to collapse into bed.

He started with a long, hot shower, scrubbing off the sweat and glitter -- _ so _ much glitter -- with his favorite vanilla body wash. Then he dried himself off with one of the hotel’s expensive towels, and changed into a fresh pair of briefs and his comfiest oversized T-shirt. It was kind of a chilly night, so he also put on the hotel’s white robe. It was so soft and comfy, Tatara marveled, running a hand down his arm.

His phone chimed, and Tatara smiled, knowing that it was Kusanagi without even having to look.

_ Congrats, _ the message read. _ How do you feel? _

_ Good, _ Tatara replied. _ Tired. _

_ Then go to bed, _Kusanagi wrote.

_ I will, Dad, _ Tatara sent.

_ Shut up. _ Then, a few moments later, _ I’ll message you tomorrow morning. _

Tatara laughed. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve to have met Kusanagi and Mikoto all those years ago, but he was grateful for it.

He dried his hair so he wouldn’t catch a cold, and pushed his bangs out of his face with a couple of clips. He was in the middle of putting on his moisturizer when there was a brusque knock at the door.

Tatara peered into the peephole on the door, fully expecting to see Kamamoto on the other side, and his heart nearly gave out when he saw who it actually was. He opened to door to reveal Mikoto standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. 

“Hi,” Mikoto said eventually.

Tatara gaped. “Is everything okay?” he cried. “Is Anna all right?”

“Huh?”

“Is something wrong with Kusanagi-san?” Tatara couldn’t imagine why else Mikoto would show up at his hotel room in a completely different city, this late at night.

“What? No,” Mikoto said. “I’m here to see you.

“Did I forget something important?” Tatara asked, perplexed. Kusanagi would have told him if he was sending Mikoto, wouldn’t he?

“No.” Mikoto pulled something from inside his jacket. It was a familiar bottle of whiskey, one he, Mikoto, and Kusanagi had often shared for celebrations.

Tatara swallowed. “Oh.”

“I might have swiped it from Kusanagi’s office.”

Tatara smiled, slowly, and then he stepped aside to let Mikoto into the room. He led Mikoto to the little sitting area in his small suite. “Bottle?” he asked, reaching for the whiskey as Mikoto sat on the couch.

Heart pounding, he grabbed two glasses from the minibar and filled them with ice before filling each glass with a generous amount of liquor. He knew he probably shouldn’t drink tonight, but with the tension in the air, at least holding the glass would give him something to do.

He handed a cup to Mikoto and sat down on the couch beside him, putting a respectable distance between them. Mikoto had shrugged out of his jacket and laid it on the arm of the couch, and Tatara tried not to let his mind race. “So, what are we celebrating?” Tatara asked, raising his glass for a toast.

Mikoto swallowed. “I dunno,” he said. “Your first show after…”

“Okay,” Tatara agreed quickly. They clinked their glasses together and Tatara took a long sip, appreciating the familiar burn of Kusanagi’s expensive whiskey. He watched Mikoto. “Why are you here?” he asked quietly. There was no way that, after nearly a month of silence, Mikoto had come for a simple drink. 

Mikoto tilted his glass, sloshing the liquid around. “I opened your Christmas present,” he said, and Tatara stilled. “After the New Year’s party.”

“Oh.” Tatara let that sink in. He’d thought at first that Mikoto might just have thrown the box out, without looking inside, or that he’d opened it and had nothing to say. Then, after the way Mikoto had avoided his gaze at HOMRA that day, he assumed that it had made Mikoto angry.

“Anna told me it’s rude not to thank someone for a gift,” Mikoto said, jerking Tostuka from his thoughts. 

Tatara laughed, but there was no way Mikoto wouldn’t have noticed how strained it was. “Well, she’s right,” he teased. “But you don’t need to thank me. I only gave it to you because I thought you should know, even after we…”

Mikoto was watching him intently, lips curled down into his characteristic frown. He set down his glass and took a deep breath. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I liked it.”

Tatara forgot how to breathe. He should tell Mikoto that he was tired, and ask him to leave. He had to get up early, and… Before he could say a thing, Mikoto reached out, brushed his fingertips through Tatara’s hair. Tatara’s breath hitched. “What…”

Mikoto chuckled lowly as he pulled a clip from Tatara’s hair. _ Right, _ Tatara thought. He hadn’t taken them out yet.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Mikoto pulled each clip out until all four were sitting on the coffee table. He gently brushed out Tatara’s hair with his fingertips until the strands were back in place. His fingers trailed down from Tatara’s hair to his neck, and Tatara was suddenly aware of how close they were, how they must have shifted towards each other without him noticing, like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Mikoto leaned in, until Tatara could feel the press of his nose to his neck. Tatara heard Mikoto’s long, deep inhale, and then felt the tickle of his hot breath as he exhaled. “Sorry,” Mikoto murmured into his neck, lips grazing his skin. It was merely a whisper, but Tatara swore it was loud enough to echo in the hotel room, to crack open his ribs and crawl into his heart.

Slowly, gently, Tatara cupped Mikoto’s cheeks and lifted his face so he could press their lips together. There was probably lots to talk about, and he had questions, but for now, this was enough.

Mikoto responded quickly, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. Tatara had never imagined that a kiss this desperate could be so sweet.

Mikoto’s hand grasped Tatara’s waist, and he frowned at the thick material of the robe that was in his way. Gently, he untied it and pulled it off, letting it drop to the floor. They still weren’t close enough for Tatara’s liking, so he climbed into Mikoto’s lap. Their hands moved hungrily in search of bare skin; Tatara’s fingers dipped into the neck of Mikoto’s shirt as he kissed him deeply, while Mikoto’s hands slid down Tatara’s back to play with the hem of his shirt. Impatient, Tatara yanked off Mikoto’s T-shirt, drinking in the lean muscles of his chest and arms like it had been years since he’d last seen him like this, and not only a bit over a month. Mikoto tugged at Tatara’s shirt, but when he tossed it on the floor beside his own, he stilled. Following Mikoto’s gaze, Tatara looked down to see what he was staring at.

_ Right, _ he thought.

Mikoto gently trailed his fingers over the scarred skin on Tatara’s belly, and Tatara shivered. The doctor had warned him to avoid anything physically strenuous, but now that Mikoto was here, in his hotel room, half naked and half hard, Tatara wasn’t going to give it up for anything. “Sorry,” Tatara whispered, a little hoarse. “You’re gonna have to do most of the work.” Mikoto’s eyes darkened at that, and Tatara felt heat coil low in his belly in response.

Mikoto leaned up to kiss him, hands settling on Tatara’s hips like they belonged there. As Tatara flicked open the button of Mikoto’s jeans, Mikoto’s fingers dipped into Tatara’s underwear. Mikoto pulled back slightly. “Do you have anything?” he rasped into Tatara’s cheek. 

Tatara was so distracted by the heat of Mikoto’s mouth and skin that it took him a moment to realize Mikoto was talking to him. “Yeah, hold on,” he said, panting, and practically ran into the bathroom to grab the small bottle of lube from his toiletry bag. 

When he returned, Mikoto was pulling off his jeans, erection straining against his boxer shorts. Tossing the bottle onto the couch, Tatara made quick work of tugging off Mikoto’s underwear, and then his own. He returned to his spot in Mikoto’s lap and grinded down slightly, and they both moaned as their erections rubbed together. Mikoto’s hands fell to Tatara’s hips once again, pulling him in closer still as they kissed. 

It wasn’t long before Tatara was squirming impatiently, so he reached for the lube and offered it to Mikoto. “Please,” he whispered, dangerously close to a whine. Mikoto grunted, accepting the bottle. Tatara lifted himself to his knees and spread his legs slightly to help Mikoto along. Hands braced on Mikoto’s strong shoulders, Tatara closed his eyes. He gasped at the press of a slick finger against his entrance. 

Mikoto stilled. “Okay?” he rasped. 

“Yeah,” he managed to say. “Keep going.”

Mikoto worked him open tortuously slowly, first with one gentle finger, then with two, then three. Tatara was trembling, the pleasure from just Mikoto’s fingers pumping in and out of him, crooking to brush against that sweet spot, almost too much. “That’s… that’s enough,” he said, panting. 

Mikoto’s fingers slipped out. “Are you sure?”

“Please,” Tatara breathed. He ached with anticipation as he watched Mikoto grab the lube again, this time to coat his cock. 

Slowly, carefully, Tatara lowered himself onto Mikoto’s cock, Mikoto’s hands clutching his hips to guide his movements. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped when Mikoto was fully sheathed inside him; he had missed this feeling, so full and hot. He’d thought he’d never get to feel it again. 

“Okay,” Tatara said, shifting slightly in Mikoto’s lap. He couldn’t bear waiting any longer than he already had.

“Fuck,” Mikoto swore. Still gripping Tatara’s hips, he thrust up experimentally. Tatara gasped at the sensation. “Good?” Mikoto asked, voice low and almost teasing. 

“Yeah,” Tatara murmured. He wanted to ride Mikoto so bad, but he had promised to let Mikoto do the work. “Keep going.” He leaned in to press their lips together in a messy kiss. 

Mikoto continued to thrust into him at a lazy pace. It was good, of course it was good, but Tatara needed more. Mikoto’s tight hold on his hips prevented him from taking control of the pace, so he did what he could and leaned in to mouth at Mikoto’s cheek, his jaw. Cheekily, Tatara nipped at Mikoto’s ear. Tatara had sort of made a habit of trying to spur Mikoto on when they fucked, and biting usually did the trick. 

“Totsuka,” Mikoto warned. 

“Please?” Tatara whispered in the low, breathy voice that usually drove Mikoto insane. 

Mikoto only grunted. “When your stomach is healed,” he said as evenly as he could while thrusting into Tatara, “I’ll fuck you as hard as you want.”

Tatara chuckled. “Fine,” he acquiesced, because the image Mikoto had conjured was kind of a prize in its own right. “Remember you said that.”As if in response, Mikoto lifted Tatara’s hips slightly, just enough to change the angle of his next thrust. “Ah,” Tatara moaned at the jolt of pleasure. “Like that,” he said, panting. 

Tatara lost any semblance of coherence after that, overwhelmed by the almost painful grip of Mikoto’s hands on him, by the familiar heat of Mikoto’s cock inside him, by the way Mikoto kissed at his neck without leaving any marks, instinctively knowing that he couldn’t have them for his public appearances, no matter how good his makeup artist was. 

He knew Mikoto was close when his rhythm started to falter. He wrapped a hand around his own cock, and it only took a few strokes until he was spilling between them. 

Mikoto grunted. “Shit, Totsuka, I’m--”

“It’s okay,” Tatara murmured, wrapping his arms around Mikoto’s neck. After a few more thrusts, Mikoto climaxed with a groan, pumping Tatara full of his come. 

Tatara closed his eyes, clinging to Mikoto in exhaustion. His body felt heavy and sated, though his legs were like jelly. If Mikoto wanted him to move, it’d be up to him to do it. Tatara sighed as Mikoto pulled out slowly. They were both a mess, Tatara realized, as Mikoto’s come trickled out of him and onto Mikoto’s thighs, but he was still too tired to move. 

Mikoto chuckled lowly. 

“What?” Tatara murmured sleepily. 

“We didn’t even make it to the bed,” Mikoto said. 

Tatara hummed, eyes still shut. “There’s always tomorrow,” he whispered, and Mikoto snorted. He felt a gentle caress on his back, and warm lips on his cheek, and then he was being lifted. 

He was only semi-conscious as Mikoto rinsed them off in a warm shower, and then dried them both with the fluffy hotel towels. Then, he felt the softness of sheets and the warmth of Mikoto’s arms around him. It felt like a dream, he thought. The whole night had. 

“Not a dream,” Mikoto murmured, and Tatara realized he must have said it aloud. 

He reached for Mikoto’s hand and pressed his lips to the palm of it, and that was the last thing he remembered before drifting off into a deep, deep sleep. 

  


♪♫♪♫♪ 

  


Mikoto woke to the incessant ringing of Totsuka’s phone. He groaned, getting a mouthful of Totsuka’s hair. “Sorry,” Totsuka croaked, in a raspy morning voice that had a part of Mikoto perking up in interest, despite the early hour. “Hello?” Totsuka said into the phone. “I’m so tired, Kusanagi-san,” he whined. “Can I take a rain check on breakfast?” Mikoto heard the low chatter of Kusanagi on the line. “Okay, I’ll see you after checkout.”

Totsuka tossed the phone onto the bedside table and rolled back into Mikoto, hands wandering along his sides. Mikoto chuckled. Grabbing Totsuka’s wrists, he pinned him to the bed, careful of the sensitive spot on Totsuka’s belly. Totsuka grinned up at him, eyes sparkling and full of heat.

“Thought you were tired,” Mikoto said.

“I am,” Totsuka replied, all innocence. “So we should stay in bed.”

And so they did, fooling around for far longer than they should have, and then again in the shower. By the time Totsuka was drying his hair, he was already behind schedule. 

Mikoto’s own hair was still dripping wet. “I should go to my room to get my shit,” he said, shaking it out.

“Okay.” Totsuka stood on the tips of his toes to press a kiss to the corner of Mikoto’s mouth. Mikoto snagged Totsuka’s chin and tilted it so he could give him a proper kiss. Totsuka smiled into it and then pushed him off gently. “Get going. I’ll see you later.”

As Mikoto opened the door to leave, he found Kusanagi on the other side, poised to knock. Kusanagi looked at him in surprise, then confusion, and then finally, after his eyes locked on Mikoto’s wet hair, his face darkened in understanding. Mikoto had never really considered _ exactly _ how Kusanagi would react to finding out about him and Totuska, but he had never imagined Kusanagi would react badly. The frown on his face, however, was not a good sign.

“I have to go to my room,” Mikoto said quickly, moving past Kusanagi.

“I’ll find you later,” Kusanagi replied, and the threat in his tone sent a shiver up Mikoto’s spine.

  


Mikoto couldn’t hide in his room forever. There was an inevitable knock at the door, and he knew it was Kusanagi. Mikoto sighed as he opened it.

“What?” Kusanagi asked, eyebrow raised, when Mikoto frowned at him. “You think you can get Totsuka’s room number out of Kamamoto but I can’t get yours?” He eyed Mikoto suspiciously. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said, and it wasn’t negotiable. 

They sat in a private booth in some trendy restaurant Kusanagi was familiar with in the area. Kusanagi lit a cigarette, the smoking privileges no doubt thanks to his status as a high-profile client. “So, you and Totsuka, huh?” he drawled. “You’re… together.”

Mikoto grunted, reaching for a cigarette of his own. This was going to be painfully awkward, but he owed it to Kusanagi to answer his questions.

“When did this start?”

“Last New Year’s,” Mikoto said shortly. 

“A whole year,” Kusanagi said flatly. He took a long drag, then took his time blowing out the smoke. “Were you ever going to tell me?” 

Mikoto shrugged. He’d never thought of it as keeping it from Kusanagi. It was more that he assumed Kusanagi would figure it out. “You never suspected anything?”

Kusanagi looked at him thoughtfully. “I guess I always assumed that Totsuka had a crush on you or something,” he said eventually. “I didn’t realize it was mutual.” He glared at Mikoto.

Mikoto groaned. “Are you going to give me the big brother ‘if you hurt him I’ll kill you’ speech?”

Kusanagi frowned. “It’s too late for that, isn’t it? You already have. When you left the hospital like that and quit… You broke up with him.”

Mikoto took a long drag. “Yeah,” he finally said.

Kusanagi reached across the table and smacked him on the head. “Oi, Mikoto, that’s really fucked up!”

“I know,” he said, rubbing at his head.

“I’m not surprised Totsuka would forgive you, though.” Kusanagi rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe I will give you that speech. If you ever hurt him _ again _, they’ll never find your body.” He grinned wickedly. “I do have lots of contacts, you know.”

Mikoto wanted to say it wouldn’t be necessary, but he figured it was the kind of thing that needed to be proved with actions, and not just words.

“Still,” Kusanagi said, “I kind of wished someone had told me. I said some things that I wouldn’t have, if I’d known.”

“Eh?” Mikoto thought back, and he couldn’t remember Kusanagi saying anything too bad.

Kusanagi covered his face with the palm of his hand. “I told Totuska that you and Honami would make a good couple,” he muttered.

“What the hell?” Mikoto choked out. 

“I’m sorry! You were being all emo, and it seemed like she liked you.”

Well, Kusanagi was partially right, but that wasn’t something for Mikoto to reveal. “She helped a bit,” he said, instead. 

“That’s good. It all turned out okay, I guess.” 

“Yeah,” Mikoto said, and he couldn’t help but think that that was an enormous understatement.

They ate their breakfast, and when they finished, Kusanagi refused to pay for Mikoto’s. “This is not a business meal,” Kusanagi complained. “You came here to seduce my client.”

Mikoto scowled at him. He was having way too much fun with this. 

“And since you’re officially Totsuka’s boytoy, should we get you some tickets to the show tonight?” Kusanagi continued. Mikoto glared at him. “Oh, don’t make that face. I have a whole year’s worth of teasing to catch up on.”

“Shut up,” Mikoto said. “Why are you acting like I’ve never seen him in concert? I’ve probably seen him the most.”

“Ah, but that was as security, not as his _ boyfriend. _And you weren’t watching him then, anyways, since your back was always turned!”

Mikoto sighed. “Fine, whatever.”

Kusanagi grinned. “I was planning on going tonight, anyways, since I couldn’t make it last night. I could _ probably _get you some VIP tickets.”

They left the restaurant and walked back towards the hotel, where the car would take them to the airport for their private flight to the next stop on the tour. Totsuka was no doubt in the midst of some kind of presser, and then he’d have rehearsal and sound check.

Kusanagi prattled on as they walked, enjoying himself far too much. “Should we get you a T-shirt with Totsuka’s face on it? How about the pink one, where he’s winking? It’ll probably be a bit small, but Totsuka would probably like--”

Mikoto grabbed Kusanagi in a headlock, and grinned triumphantly at Kusanagi’s strangled “Oi, Mikoto!” Letting him go, Mikoto laughed, feeling lighter than he could remember feeling in a very, very long time.

  


♪♫♪♫♪ 

  


**Entertainment Weekly✓ **@EW_JPN

REVIEW: Hakumai-tō show sells out, two nights in a row. Read the full story here!

**Entertainment Weekly✓ **@EW_JPN

Totsuka Tatara debuts new song on second night of tour. Read the full story here!

  


**Entertainment Weekly✓ **@EW_JPN

Fan shares video of Totsuka Tatara’s new song. Read the full story here!

[Video attached]

  


**#1 totsuka stan** @totsukatrash

@justafangirl have you heard Totsuka’s new song???

**Rin ~ I’m still crying ** @justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

Yes omg its so beautiful!!!! What an incredible love song it’s literally the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard

**#1 totsuka stan** @totsukatrash  
Replying to @justafangirl

I know right?? and his voice is so beautiful ugh

**Rin ~ I’m still crying ** @justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

Yes! and he looked so happy singing it too omg. do you think hes in love rn??

**#1 totsuka stan** @totsukatrash  
Replying to @justafangirl

he must be 😭


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for reading! <3

**Epilogue**

**Entertainment Weekly****✓** @EW_JPN

100 Valentine’s Day tips from your favorite idols!  Read the full story here! 

  
  


**Teen Fashion****✓** @TeenFashion_JPN

Cute outfit ideas for your Valentine’s Day date! 

  
  


**Entertainment Weekly****✓** @EW_JPN

Idol Totsuka Tatara greets fans in the airport.  Read the full story here! 

  


**Entertainment Weekly****✓** @EW_JPN

Totsuka Tatara turns 25 today. See how he’s changed over the years.  Read the full story here! 

  


**Teen Fashion****✓** @TeenFashion_JPN

Get Totsuka Tatara’s cute airport outfit! 

[image attached]

  


♫♪♫♬♫♪

  
  


“I’ll see you guys later,” Tatara said to Kuroh, Shiro, and Neko. They’d flown into Shizume City together and made their way through the airport without too much chaos, only stopping for a few minutes to take pictures with fans. They were about to part ways, since Tatara had a car waiting for him, presumably sent by HOMRA. 

The tour schedule had, very luckily, given them a break right in time for Tatara’s birthday. He’d probably be whisked into a car, brought to HOMRA for a check-in with Kusanagi, given a quick bite to eat, and then he’d be taken to the club where he’d have to get ready for the party. He wasn’t sure why, but Kusanagi had been very insistent that he should do something for his birthday this year despite their crazier-than-usual schedules. 

Tatara spotted the driver holding a sign with his name on it and followed him out of the airport. What was waiting for him was not the usual black HOMRA car, but a stretch limousine. Surprised, Tatara thanked the driver when he opened the door for him, and slid inside. His heart thumped when he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Yo,” greeted a very casual Mikoto. “Kusanagi-san said happy birthday, I guess.” 

Tatara grinned. That explained the limo, then.

Taking half a second to confirm the partition was closed for their privacy, Tatara scrambled into Mikoto’s lap, peppering his face with kisses before leaning in for a more serious one. It had been nearly a month since the last time they’d seen each other in person. They’d made do with text messages and short phone calls, and the occasional Skype video chat when either of them had more than a few minutes alone, but nothing could compare to the real thing. 

Tatara fought a shiver as Mikoto’s hands travelled along his body, touching the places they hadn’t in weeks. “It’s good to be back,” Tatara said against Mikoto’s cheek. 

“For now,” Mikoto qualified, and Tatara leaned back to look down at him. He was content to spend their entire ride just like this, touching and kissing and making up for lost time, but he had some things to tell Mikoto that probably shouldn’t wait. 

“Actually,” Tatara said, “I’m not going on the rest of the tour. That was it for me.”

Mikoto’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“Yukari made up with Kuroh, and it seemed like good timing for me to finish,” Tatara said. “I’m pretty exhausted.” It had been fun, and what he’d wanted at the time, and he certainly didn’t regret going, but he was more than happy to be coming home.

“Oh.” MIkoto seemed lost in thought. “So…” 

Right.   
  
They’d never really talked about what would happen once Tatara was back at HOMRA. Would things go back to the way they were before, with Mikoto as his bodyguard? 

Tatara touched Mikoto’s cheek gently. “I think you should stay with Anna,” he said softly.

“Huh?”

“You two really get along, don’t you?” Tatara asked. “It’s been good for you, and she adores you.”  
  
“And what about you?”  
  
“I adore you, too,” he teased, and Mikoto frowned. “Whether I keep working with Kamamoto, or someone else from HOMRA, I’ll be fine.” Tatara chuckled. “Besides, it’s probably the more professional thing to do.”   
  
Mikoto gave him a look that said _ since when have we ever cared about that? _

Tatara leaned in to kiss that frowning mouth. “I don’t care if we have to be apart for work,” Tatara whispered, “as long as I get to come home to you.”

Mikoto lifted a brow. “Come home to?” he repeated.  
  
Tatara replayed what he’d just said, realizing what that implied. He felt his face warm, but he tried to not sound too embarrassed as he said, “You know what I mean. It’s a manner of speech.” 

Mikoto searched his face for a long moment before leaning up to kiss him, a little dirty, and so Tatara thought of nothing but his mouth and hands for the rest of the ride.

  
  


Only a few hours later, Tatara’s birthday party was in full swing. Tatara had been touched to see that his closest friends had made it -- Kuroh, Shiro, and Neko had stopped by, even in the midst of the tour. Fushimi had come, even if he looked sullen as ever standing beside an animated, slightly tipsy Yata. Tatara had winked at Fushimi when he’d spotted him, and Fushimi had scowled in irritation. Anna and Honami had made it, too, along with all of the HOMRA boys. Mikoto had been betrayed when he’d spotted Munakata and Awashima standing amongst everyone, sticking out like sore thumbs.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Tatara had whispered, fighting a smile. “Anna asked me if she could invite Munakata, and how could I say no to her?”

Tatara had greeted Munakata very politely, and thanked him for coming, and Munakata had returned his pleasantries with a slightly judgmental eye on where Mikoto’s hand rested on Tatara’s waist. Smiling brightly at Munakata, Tatara had leaned purposefully into Mikoto.

Kusanagi found him later, slightly buzzed, and slung an arm over his shoulder. “So,” he said, “how’s twenty-five treating you so far?”  
  
Tatara laughed, looking around at all his loved ones, gathered in one room. “I’m truly blessed,” he said.

Kusanagi’s face softened for a moment at Tatara’s sentimentality, and then he snickered and ruffled Tatara’s hair. “Let’s hope it brings you less trouble than twenty-four, so _ you _ bring _ me _less trouble.”

Tatara smiled. “Thank you, Kusanagi-san. For everything.”  
  
“Eh?” Kusanagi sputtered. “Jeez, so serious at your own party,” he said. “Come on, you need more to drink.” Hand around Tatara’s wrist, he pulled him towards the bar, where Mikoto was waiting for them both.

♫♪♫♬♫♪

Mikoto was making his way out of the bathroom when Totsuka grabbed him and pulled him into a dark, secluded corner, giving them a rare moment of privacy. “What are you doing?” Mikoto asked, and Totsuka just grabbed his face and pressed their lips together. He tasted like the sweet cocktails Kusanagi had been handing him all night. Mikoto pulled back, and Totsuka’s eyes were dark and hazy. 

“Can we go home?” Totsuka whispered, resting a hand on Mikoto’s belly, just above the waistband of his jeans.

Fighting a shiver, Mikoto raised a brow. “You want to bail on your own birthday party?” He didn’t care, one way or another, but it was very unlike Totsuka. They hadn’t even sang him “Happy Birthday” yet.

Totsuka pouted, fingers trailing under Mikoto’s T-shirt teasingly. “Then can we find the bathroom? Or a closet?” He pressed in even closer, rubbing up against Mikoto slightly.

Mikoto sighed. “Why are you such a horny drunk?” He took a step forward, pushing Totsuka against the wall, and he swooped down to kiss him. Totsuka moaned into the kiss, twining his arms around Mikoto’s neck to keep him close. Mikoto’s mind was flooded with images of fucking Totsuka’s up against this wall, right here, right now, and his cock stirred with interest at the very thought. His hands rested on Totsuka’s ass and he was about to lift him when--

“Totsuka-san!” Yata’s voice echoed, even above the humming of the club. There was no way that he wouldn’t find them.

Totsuka whined when they broke apart. “Noooo,” he said petulantly. 

“Go back to your party,” Mikoto rasped, thumb trailing along Totsuka’s kiss-swollen lips. “Then we can go home.”

“Okay,” Totsuka whispered, breathless.

“What are you guys doing over here?” Yata asked when he found them.  
  
“Just taking a breather!” Totsuka said brightly, surprisingly calm, considering what they’d just been doing.

“It’s time for your birthday cake,” Yata said impatiently. “Let’s go!”

They let Yata lead them out of their secluded spot and back into the heart of the party, where Kusanagi was waiting to light sparklers on a giant cake. The crowd cheered at Totsuka’s arrival, and the round of off-key “Happy Birthday” singing began.

The last thing Mikoto remembered was Kusanagi ordering a gigantic round of tequila shots, and then downing a few after everyone toasted, “To Totsuka!”

  
  
  
  


Mikoto woke to the creaking of the bed and the rustling of sheets. He opened one eye and instantly regretted it; even the dim morning light seemed too bright, and his head ached like it weighed a hundred pounds. He groaned, and then felt the dryness of his mouth.

Totsuka chuckled beside him. He’d just crawled back into bed, two huge glasses of water in hand. “Thirsty?” he asked, his own voice dry and scratchy. He offered Mikoto a glass.

Mikoto grunted and took a long sip, nearly emptying his glass. It helped his parched mouth, but it did nothing for the headache.

They’d drank way too much last night.

From what Mikoto could piece together, after far too much tequila at the party, they’d taken the limo back to Totsuka’s apartment where immediately upon entering they’d torn off each other’s clothes. They’d stumbled into the bedroom, bumping into walls and furniture along the way. Their fucking had been frantic and sloppy, not exactly romantic birthday lovemaking, but Totsuka hadn’t minded, from the way he’d screamed Mikoto’s name.

He looked at Totsuka, who was leaning against the headboard. He spotted a dark mark at the juncture of Totsuka’s neck and shoulder. “Oops,” he said without a trace of apology, touching it lightly with his fingers. “Sorry.”  
  
Totsuka shivered. “Good thing I have nowhere to be today,” he said with a grin.

“What time is it?”

“Past noon. I need to find my phone.” Totsuka stood, completely naked, and stretched. “I think it’s in my jeans’ pocket.” He followed the trail of their discarded clothes into the hallway. “Got it!” he cried triumphantly, and then hurried back into the bedroom to slide back into bed and cuddle in close. “Kusanagi-san called a few times,” he said, tilting the screen to show Mikoto. He tapped Kusanagi’s name to return the call, and put it on speaker.

_ “Totsuka?” _Kusanagi didn’t sound any better than Mikoto felt.

“Good morning, Kusanagi-san!” Totsuka said brightly.

_ “It’s the afternoon now,” _Kusanagi replied. 

“Not for us,” Totsuka sassed. “Is everything okay?”

_ “I sent you a picture that leaked from the party last night, of you and Mikoto leaving the club,” _Kusanagi said.

Totsuka looked at Mikoto. “Is it bad or something?” he asked.

_ “No,” _ Kusanagi said. _ “I just thought you should see it in case you want to say something.” _

“Okay,” Totsuka replied, and it turned into a yawn. “We’ll talk to you later, then.”

Kusanagi was quiet for a moment. _ “Right,” _ he said. _ “We, huh?” _ He chuckled. _ “Hi, Mikoto.” _ Mikoto just grunted in acknowledgement, which Kusanagi must have heard, because he snorted in response. _ “Bye, you guys.” _

“Bye!” Totsuka hung up. He smiled sweetly at Mikoto. “Do you think Kusanagi-san feels weird because he realized we were in bed together? Naked?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

Mikoto chuckled. “You should’ve asked _ him _ that.” Kusanagi shouldn’t be allowed to have all the fun, and he’d been having far too much of it teasing them.

Totsuka opened the photo attachment in Kusanagi’s message. The picture of them wasn’t very incriminating: Mikoto was carrying Totsuka bridal style, and Totsuka was smiling up at him with that cheeky smile that he had when he drank. They looked familiar, and Totsuka definitely looked drunk, but it wasn’t exactly scandalous. (It’s not like the photograph could capture the probably filthy things that Totsuka was saying in that moment.)

Totsuka was staring at the picture thoughtfully. “Anything you want me to say about it?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” Mikoto replied. “Say what you want.” He didn’t much care if their relationship was public or private, especially now that their professional relationship had shifted. He’d never really cared about this media stuff. 

Biting his lip, Totsuka typed a quick reply and then tossed his phone onto his nightstand. “There,” he said. “Now we can do whatever we want for the rest of the day.” With greedy hands, he pulled Mikoto down on top of him, humming contently. 

“Whatever you want,” Mikoto said. It was his birthday, after all.

“Mmm, then I want… you to kiss me.”

Leaning down, Mikoto pecked him on the cheek. 

“Again,” Totsuka pouted. 

Mikoto pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Again,” Totsuka said, smiling this time.

He brushed their lips together, once, twice, and then pressed in more firmly, slipping his tongue into Totsuka’s mouth to kiss him breathless.

When he pulled back, Totsuka was panting. “Again,” he whispered. 

And so he did, kissing Totsuka over and over again.

He’d do it as many times as Totsuka wanted.

  
  
♫♪♫♬♫♪  


**Entertainment Weekly✓ **@EW_JPN

Leaked picture of Totsuka Tatara and his (former) bodyguard leaving his high profile birthday party last night. Read the full story here!

[Image attached]

  


**Totsuka Tatara****✓** @totsukatatara  
Replying to @EW_JPN

It’s the only way to travel 😉💋

  
  


**#1 totsuka stan** @totsukatrash

@justafangirl 👀

  


**Rin ~ I’m still crying ** @justafangirl  
Replying to @totsukatrash

👀


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